


A Long Way From Home

by Teej



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 60,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teej/pseuds/Teej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shrouded in mystery, a dangerous stranger to Camelot disrupts Gaius and Merlin's life.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A Long Way From Home**

 

**Prologue: An Intruder in Camelot.**

There were times, despite the reputation that Camelot had earned, when even the castle and the lower city seemed to be at peace with itself. The hush of deep night had settled like a warm comforting blanket, and slowly, slowly lights began winking out as the inhabitants settled down for sleep. Even the taverns had emptied, the few remaining revellers stumbling off to their homes and hearths.

Very little moved about to disturbed the peace. Cattle shifted in their stalls, horses sleepily pulled at wisps of hay from the racks, and an occasional chicken was jostled from its roost. Only the cats were active, hunting the plentiful supply of rats. Camelot's guards, paired and manning the entries into the castle, were alert but relaxed, the late summer evening draping its calm mantle over all. A few guards were walking their routes through the lower city knowing, for a change, that there was nothing exciting or dangerous threatening the city and castle. 

Even the forest, a dark and foreboding presence surrounding Camelot, was peaceful and still, its nocturnal denizens going on about their lives in serenity.

Only one person actually moved about with a purpose. Gaius, royal court physician, with his curious bag of medicines and concoctions, was making his way down the lower streets before turning on the outer road and heading for the mill. A birthing was imminent and his attention was needed, having been summoned by a midwife. He nodded at two guards making rounds and continued on his way unmolested, the job at hand thoroughly occupying his mind.

Along the forests edge, concealed in the undergrowth, a girl watched as Gaius passed the sentries disappearing down a side path to the mill while the two guards ambled past the road Gaius had just exited. Swallowing nervously and eyeing the two men, she pulled the foliage back and cautiously crept out into the long grass. They continued on their way before she turned her head fixing her gaze on a deep pool of shadows near the first building along the road. Quick as a wink, she was out of her hiding place, silently dashing in her bare feet across the crude track circling the lower town and scrambled into the safety of the shadows. Trembling from the exertion and fright, she warily peered around the building, watching the guards continue on their way. 

As her fear turned to relief, a curious convulsion shook her small body, and she abruptly shrunk back into the shadows, curling in on herself, and buried her face in the crudely spun sack she had scrounged for a covering. The coughing fit struck her hard and she struggled to muffle the sounds. It passed soon enough, but a whimper escaped her lips as she sagged against the roughly cut wood of the building. Perspiration beaded and wet the hair on her forehead and temples. Her eyes, bright with fever, drooped in defeat as she let the tremors shake her. The results left her curled helplessly in the shadows, struggling for breath. Minutes passed by as she lay trembling in the dark. 

A curious, harmless, dog passed by. At first, the hairs at the scruff of its neck rose in alarm and a lip lifted in a snarl, but as it sniffed a dirty bare foot, it slowly backed off before turning and going about its way. Swallowing a lump of fear, the girl lay still for a long moment, and waited for the coughing and shivering to subside. Presently she struggled upright, looking back down the street at the dark foreboding forest, and a part of her longed to run back into its shelter. However, she turned and peered cautiously around the building in order to look up the road leading towards the immense castle looming in the dark. 

Determinedly, she forced her protesting body up, and like one of the hunting cats, she began stealthily moving from shadow to shadow. She worked her way ever closer to the castle, slowing only in dark, concealed refuges to allow the illness racking her body to run it intermittent course. Time crept by.

As she drew closer and closer to the immense stone towers making up one corner of the castle proper, dread filled her eyes. There was a pair of guards, staunchly standing at the entry leading into the Square of the castle, very much awake. Dismayed, she huddled in her dark corner, trying to work out how she could get past them and into the castle grounds. The area was cast deep in shadows thanks to the torches mounted on the walls of the entry. Immediately in front of the men, the grounds were brightly lit, but around them and along the walls the shadows were as black as ink. She bit her lip, struggling to control the shiver racing through her and watched the two men carefully.

Opportunity came from an unexpected source. 

A cat, with a fat rat in its jaws, made the unfortunate mistake of jumping down from nearby storage kegs only to meet with yet another wandering mutt. The abrupt growl and bark of the dog as it vented its gleeful pleasure of the chase startled the two guards to full alertness as the cat dashed in front of them. The dog, with a full throated cacophony of barking, began its hot pursuit running past the two guards. The men laughed and joked, both moving aside from the entry to watch the results.

The girl made her move, crouching low and running swiftly for the shadows of the inner gateway. 

The sound of rapidly moving but soft footfalls on the stone pavement caused the nearer guard to frown, and he paused in their distraction of the dog chase to turn and look towards the entry.

“Hey!” he shouted in alarm, bringing the other man up sharply as he spied a small dark figure just disappearing through the gateway into the courtyard. Slapping a gloved hand into the chest of his confused partner he hefted his spear and turned to run. “I just saw someone running in to the Square!”

At the sound of that first shout, panic flooded the girl and she forgot about her sickness. Still trying to stick to the shadows, she fled as the two guards rounded the entryway at a run. Hearing them only goaded her to move faster, and she searched frantically for somewhere to hide. The Square, however, was maddeningly free of anything to allow someone to do just exactly that. She turned towards the nearest tower as the two guards split up, looking for her. She scrambled in frantic haste up a curving stairwell, desperately seeking a place to hide. Making partial headway from the pursuing guards, she began trying doors in the hopes that one of them would be unlocked. 

Renewed shouting from the two men spurred her onward as she was spotted, and she scrambled further up into the enormous tower dashing up yet another set of stairs. Trying to silence her whimpering, she found another door and tried it. The door swung inwards, causing her to stumble through in surprise before falling to her hands and knees just inside the door. Spinning around, she grabbed the door before it could slam and eased it shut, then scuttled backwards, crab-wise, in fear that she had been heard and the guards would burst in after her. One of them shouted to the other to split up and moments after the door had shut, booted feet thudded past the doorway.

Panting in fright the girl continued crabbing backwards, until she abruptly hit a table, jostling it and the contents. Tinkling glass, crockery, and other small items, rolled and hit one another, causing her to gasp in fright at the noise. She flipped around onto her knees, hands flying up to catch anything that might have fallen. When nothing dropped she spun away, searching about in the dark.

She stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding another table and catching a few small books that were knocked off by her passing. Clumsily spinning away in her panic, she clutched the books to her, desperate not to make any more noise, and suddenly tripped against a set of stairs. She fell forwards, dropping the books as she stumbled into a set of larger tomes sitting on the landing. She veered left, crawling up the narrow stairs following the wall. Her exertions awakened the illness racking her small body and she felt the pain hitting her chest as she made it onto the landing of a narrow loft. 

To one side of her was a large bookcase, crammed so full the overflowing books were stacked up against the railing marking the end of the balcony. Heart beating frantically, she realized she had come to an abrupt dead end. With sheer horror she knew, that if anyone came into that room, she was trapped. Outside the door she could hear the guards shouting directions at reinforcements. 

Stuffing a fist into her mouth to stop the terrified cry threatening to escape, she crouched up against the bookshelf. Pain in her chest abruptly blossomed, and she bit into her hand to muffle the first wave of coughs. She fell over, trying to curl into a ball as she struggled to control the coughing and sudden difficulty in drawing a breath. Her vision blurred and constricted as perspiration stung her eyes before a threatening wave of darkness loomed up. Moving swiftly, the darkness swept over her so fast that she couldn't resist it and it buried her in its wake.

With a last gasp and whimper, she toppled over, her body limp and spent while her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Outside, the alarms bells began ringing throughout the castle. 

**1.**

It wasn't unusual to see Gaius, at any time of day or night, coming and going through out Camelot and the lower city. In fact, the guards, in their search of the castle grounds, only briefly paused to identify him as he made his way back towards his chambers. The early morning birth had kept him up very late now and he was only mildly surprised when the bells began to ring in alarm, yet weary enough not to be bothered by such a thing. To him, all that mattered was a successful addition to a family despite a difficult breech presentation.

With a well earned sigh of relief and a smile tugging fondly at the corner of his mouth, he clutched his apothecary bag and began to walk up the flight of stairs to his chambers, remembering with a sigh that Merlin was away on yet another patrol with Arthur and wasn't due back until the next day. Or rather, Merlin was due later that day, come to think of it; dawn wasn't very far off. How he hoped fervently Merlin came home unscathed for a change. Seemed more often than not that wasn't the case. He sighed as he realized that his chambers would be pitch dark; he'd not had time to leave a candle burning, and he knew the hearth embers would be cold.

Nearing his chambers, Gaius tried to remember where the flint and striker had been left, and he looked at his hands in dismay. His old bones, despite the fingerless gloves he wore, ached with arthritis from the night's work and would make starting a fire a tediously long and painful exercise. He paused as he mounted the remaining stairs when yet another guard spotted him. Gaius closed his eyes in mild annoyance.

He identified himself, again, and paused before his door as a young guard, bearing a torch, approached him. “It's perfectly normal for me to be out here. I am the court physician.” Gaius grumbled.

“You're sure you haven't seen anyone else around the grounds?” The young man asked Gaius as he reached up to push open the door.

“Quite positive, my boy,” Gaius replied, “The only people who would be up at this time of night are court physicians, royal guards, and newborn babies.”

“And intruders,” the young guard replied as Gaius opened his door. The guard blinked. “You don't lock your door?”

“Why should I?” Gaius smiled indulgently at the man as he stepped inside, tugging the strap of the apothecary bag over his head. “People are always coming to me at any time of the day or night. Locking my door would be pointless.” Gaius paused before he stepped inside while the guard stood back for him, holding the torch aloft. The room was dark, cavernous and comfortably cluttered with all manner of items, mostly jars and books.

“Now where could that flint be? Merlin is forever putting it where it shouldn't be left, leaving me to try and find the....” Gaius stopped, looking askance at the guard as he hung the bag on a nearby peg. “My boy? Might I borrow that for a moment?” He nodded at the torch. 

The guard blinked and handed the torch over. “Certainly.” 

Gaius smiled at him and took the torch, swinging it into the darkened chambers. The guard followed him just inside the door way as the old physician reached up for a candle and lit it from the torch. Once he settled the candle into a nearby sconce, he turned towards the fireplace, happily noting that Merlin, per usual, had left it ready to be started, a neat pile of tinder, kindling and logs just waiting for a spark.

Chuckling to himself, Gaius set the tinder alight from the torch and turned towards the waiting guard, handing it back. “I'm afraid my old bones weren't up to trying to light a fire tonight.”

The guard smiled at Gaius. “Glad I could assist then. You'll let us know if you see anything or anyone out of place?”

“Of course,” Gaius replied meeting him at the door as the fire in the hearth caught the kindling and flared, brightening the room. The guard smiled his thanks and set off to resume his search, and Gaius shut the door.

He paused, listening, as the guard hurried away, and turned around slowly looking at the stairs leading to Merlin's room. That strange sixth sense, like a tiny shiver of ice creeping up his spine, was warning Gaius that something was not right. His rooms were as familiar to him as his own self and he knew when something was out of place. Unerringly, his gaze shifted left to the stairs leading up to the loft. There. A pile of books hastily dumped on the steps. Merlin had been gone for several days now, and Gaius knew those books had been on the table. 

With his familiar stoic expression settling on his face, Gaius looked up at the loft.

He didn't even blink in surprise when the first thing he saw was a small, dirty arm dangling off the edge of the loft between railings. He focused on a small form lying on the loft floor. Moving cautiously, he climbed the steps and found a girl lying on her stomach, her dishevelled, black, curls -liberally sprinkled with leaves and small stick, splayed out like a cloak over her small body. Clothed literally in a bag, her head, and thin arms, were thrust through holes torn in a dirty burlap sack and tied with a piece of twine around her tiny waist.

The initial assessment that he was dealing with the castle’s intruder was quickly dispelled when he caught sight of the dampness along the girl's hairline. His expression not once changing, he tugged the edge of his robe up and knelt down next to her, reaching out a hand to her face and knowing it was going to be hot with fever. The girl didn't even flinch at the initial contact and she was indeed burning up. His lips pursed slightly in thought as his eyes caught signs of a tell-tale greyness in her face. Her eyes, mostly closed, twitched in disturbed slumber, and the circles under her eyes looked more like bruises.

Gaius reached down and lifted up the arm dangling from the loft, and as he felt for a pulse he could see teeth marks where she had bitten into her hand. Evidence was falling rapidly into place in his head as others reared up asking questions. Forcing them aside, Gaius rose back up and hurried down the stairs. 

It wasn't unusual for him to end up with a patient in his chambers,so it was not unusual for there to be an extra cot in the room, usually tucked out of the way when things were calm and normal. To this he went, pulling it with a grunt of exertion towards one of the free spaces left in the room but near to the hearth. He straightened, looking around his chambers and assessing his stock when his ears caught the sounds of feet moving past his door way. More guards. 

Turning, Gaius opened the door and flagged down one of them, grateful it wasn't the same one whose torch he had briefly borrowed. 

It was fully within his prerogative to avail himself from time to time -as the royal physician- the use of a guard. “Young man!” he called out. 

One of the guards,who scowled at being interrupted during an alert, stopped in his tracks. “We are on alert for an intruder! Can't be disturbed right now,” the guard snapped as he prepared to follow his partner. 

“Yes, I do realize that,” Gaius sternly remarked, “But that doesn't stop the occasional medical emergencies that come my way. If I cannot get you to help deliver a message for me, could I trouble you to wake one of the serving boys and send him here? I've an urgent message that needs to be delivered to the lady living at the blacksmith's shop. I need her assistance.”

Hearing the sharpness and forced patience in Gaius' voice, the guard quickly realized he was dealing with the physician. With a curt nod to Gaius, he quickly replied, “At once,” before he turned to rush after his partner.

Shaking his head ruefully, Gaius turned back inside, shut the door and made his way back up the loft stairs. There would be no sleeping this night after all.

*

Many moments passed before Guinevere arrived, “Gaius?” she called out, peering around the door and clutching a shawl about her shoulders. She spotted him to one side of the hearth, bending over a patient laid out on the cot.

Gaius glanced her way, “Ah, Gwen, thank you for coming, I am afraid I am going to need your help with this one.”

Gwen frowned, “The whole castle seems to be in an uproar, something about an intruder? I was stopped several times on my way here else I'd have been sooner.” She let the door swing shut as she approached the old physician and his latest patient. Laid out on the cot was a profoundly unconscious girl. 

“Oh don't tell me...” Gwen suddenly asked, looking at Gaius with wide dark eyes, quickly putting two and two together. 

“Whatever do you mean?” Gaius asked innocently as he concluded his initial examination. “What we have here is a desperately ill patient: advanced pneumonia. I will need your help caring for her and getting her cleaned up.”

“Of course! But shouldn't the guards be...” Gwen asked, looking at him doubtfully.

Gaius just shook his head. “No sense in telling them just now. Besides, she's not going anywhere at the moment. And even if she should awake, I believe we are going to be in for quite a struggle and a prolonged round of delirium.”

“If she should awake?” Gwen asked cautiously.

“She's very sick, Gwen. This is a deeply set infection in both lungs. I was considering putting her in Merlin's room but now I believe it best not to move her.” Gaius looked at her frankly. “It is very conceivable that we'll lose her.”

“Oh, Gaius...” Gwen protested looking at him with despair. 

“Where there's life, there's hope, Gwen. Now what I need is water, a great deal, both hot and cold, compresses, blankets, clean linens... things we'll need to fight a virus this entrenched. We also need to clean her up. She's been running wild for some time I believe. I can't even think what it is that would bring her all the way to Camelot?”

“Who is she though?” Gwen asked, “I've never seen her amongst the street children or the orphans. She looks too old, I mean, you know, older than most of the kids to have been joining in with the children.”

“I've no idea who she is. She was unconscious when I found her up there.” He nodded at the loft. “She might be someone's slave or a maid? A run away? We won't know until she wakes up enough to answer some questions. Just from the looks of her hands, she's worked a hard life.”

Confusion crossed Gwen's face as she glanced up. “She must have run in here trying to get away from the guards.”

“And it's a good thing she did,” Gaius remarked, gathering up his robes to stand. “Have one of the serving boys help you with the water, Gwen, and get whatever it is you think she might need. I have some medicines and poultices to make before I can treat her proper.”

“I'll have some dressing screens from the store rooms in the castle brought around as well.” Gwen replied, straightening up and wrapping the shawl back around her shoulders. “You'll both need the privacy if you, yourself, are going to get any rest. You look like you haven't slept.”

Gaius, struck by Gwen's quick perceptions, nodded in agreement, “Thank you, Gwen, that is a very good idea. And you're right, I was just returning home when the bells started ringing. That new family of millers has welcomed a healthy baby boy to their brood of six girls at last.” Gaius replied wryly, wincing at the aches in his body. He shuffled to the fireplace, searching to one side of it before locating several bricks, which he then set on the hearth to warm.

“Need to get those heated up,” he remarked more to himself than anyone, “I'll need them once I get some of these poultices made to draw the infection up from her lungs. Perhaps gather a few more large pots as well, Gwen,” he added before straightening with a groan and slowly moving towards one of the large storage shelves literally chock-full of his medicines and supplies. 

“I'll be back as quickly as I can,” Gwen called back as she hurried from the room.

* 

Merlin knew something was up even before he reached the door of his home. The smell of cooked onions had begun at the foot of the stairwell leading up to the physician's chambers and only grew stronger as he approached the door. There were other smells, mostly herbal in nature, but the onions were overpowering everything. He was frowning, clutching the straps of his pack and bedroll, when he carefully eased the door open.

Several things struck him at once, besides the smell of onions. Looking right as he entered, he saw that three dressing screens had been set up, one blocking Gaius' bed from view and two others making a tiny makeshift room nearer the fireplace. One of the tables had been pulled nearer to the screens and was loaded with jars, bottles, blankets, rags...things obviously needed for a patient.

“Gaius?” he called out.

“Shhhh!” a hiss warned, before Gwen's head appeared around one of the screens.

“Gwen!” Merlin exclaimed, looking alarmed as he slung his baggage off his shoulder, and allowed the door to shut behind him. Dropping the bags, he came closer to the screens. “Is Gaius..?”

“He's fine. He's asleep,” Gwen hushed nodding towards the hidden bed, “Finally!”

“Finally?” Merlin asked and stopped as he gazed at the scene behind the partitions. 

Gwen was rising from a stool, setting a comb, a small sharp dagger, and a bowl full of dirty matted hair off to one side of the cot. The patient herself was propped by pillows on her side, facing the wall, and a glorious curtain of of thick, very long, very black, curls, which Gwen had been working on cleaning and untangling, spread across the sheets. She was wrapped in blankets and the source of the onions was coming from her.

“Gotta be pneumonia.” Merlin remarked looking at Gwen curiously. “Onion poultice?”

“Yes. We're going to reek for days. Gaius and I have been working on cleaning her up as well. Poor thing was filthy from head to toe. I've almost got her hair all cleaned up. She hasn't even stirred since...” Gwen stifled a yawn, glancing towards the windows. “Since very early this morning. What time is it anyway?”

Merlin moved closer to study the girl on the cot and appraise the progress of her treatment. “It's almost supper time. How long have you been here?” 

“All day. Gaius has only just fell asleep. Had a breech birthing last night and came home to find her. He's exhausted.”

“Found her?” Merlin asked, reaching down to settle the backs of his fingers on the girl's forehead. She was still burning up. Gwen, seeing the look on his face, leaned past him to dip a cloth into a bowl of water.

“She was running from the guards this morning and found her way in here.” Gwen turned to look up towards the loft. “Apparently she found her way up there before fainting from the pneumonia, Gaius found her a little later.”

“And then he called on you.” Merlin finished, taking the wet cloth from Gwen's hand and smiling gently at her. Squeezing out the excess water, he settled the cloth on their patient's forehead. “Why was she running from the guards?”

“We don't know. She hasn't woken or stirred since he found her, and he hasn't --well, you know, he hasn't exactly gone out of his way to, umm--” Gwen bit her lip, “--let them know that she's in here.”

Merlin's face lit up in a smile. “This must be the intruder we received reports on when we rode in.”

“Yes, that would be her.” Gwen smiled sheepishly and nodded at the the girl.

“No idea who she is? And she manages to get past all the guards and ends up in here? No wonder no one has seen her since.” The smile on Merlin's face grew brighter. He chuckled. “Nothing like coming home to the overwhelming smell of cooked onions and a mystery!” 

Gwen looked at him seriously for a moment and then shook her head, a wry smile curling her lips. “She has trespassed on the castle grounds,” she remarked. 

“But why? Whatever for?” Merlin looked the girl over. He looked back at Gwen who just shrugged and stifled a yawn.

“Have you eaten?” he asked her. 

Gwen shook her head. “Been here all day, haven't had time to go home and make anything.”

Merlin checked himself, glancing at Gwen. “All day?”

“Beats sitting around an empty home,” Gwen remarked. “Since I really don't have a job in the court any more,” she added softly, and the memory of Morgana's disappearance reared it ugly head between them. 

Merlin smiled gently at her. “Stay here, I can get us something from the kitchens, and don't you dare even protest,” He held up a warning hand at the look of reluctance that appeared on her face. “Gaius needed your touch dealing with her, so stay here and do it. Besides, apart from the sickness, she's obviously got to be more comfortable having been cleaned up, so you stay here while I get something for all of us to eat.”

“But Merlin you just got back!” Gwen protested.

“And I've been sitting on a horse putting up with his royal pratness for the last three days. Walking feels good. Stay here, I'll be back shortly,” Merlin reassured as he edged around the screen and headed for the door. Looking at Gwen one more time, he easily read the look that leaped into her eyes.

“And he's fine. Never better. Of course, he wasn't too pleased to find the castle's been on high alert in his absence and he's wondering who could possibly have wanted to intrude on the grounds. And why nobody can find her. The king isn't too happy either, so Arthur's in making his excuses to Uther as we speak.”

“Oh, dear,” Gwen murmured, clasping her hands together and taping her index fingers against her lips.

“He'll survive!” Merlin reassured, pulling the door open and entering the stairwell.

“Merlin!” Gwen called out. His head instantly reappeared from around the door, “Nothing with onions?” She asked. 

Merlin's smile literally lit up his face and he disappeared again, chuckling as he went.

Once outside the door, he stopped and frowned. A girl had intruded on castle grounds, a very sick one, who had managed to find the one place where she absolutely would get safe refuge. He glanced up and down the stairwell, knowing that no was around to see him.

Instinctively, Merlin tapped into that part of him that was so natural and yet so utterly dangerous to his very life. The outward manifestation of his magic didn't even appear as he inwardly cast out to see if there was something more than just a very sick girl inhabiting the chambers he called his home. His frown increased as he turned his head to look at the door.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, no magic, good or bad, other than his own and the deeply buried minor talent that was his mentor's. Merlin's gaze became contemplative as he pondered the situation. Something was off, but he couldn't tell what it was. At least not yet. Shaking his head to dispel his thoughts, he pushed off from the wall and made his way to the castle kitchens.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

Gaius knew he was in a fight for the girl's life. Her sickness was so deeply entrenched that the poultices he applied and the elixirs he had mixed at first did nothing. To his dismay, Gaius watched as an alarming blue tinge crept across her face and she drifted in and out of delirium, her breathing becoming shallower, sometimes to the point of actually stopping before the sheer willpower to live kicked in.

Weakened by the infection and a fever that refused to break, she was no longer strong enough to cough up the mucus. Perspiration leaked like tears down the sides of her face and forehead and drenched the cot in short time. The struggle wound down to keeping the girl wrapped in both the poultice and extra blankets, keeping the cot as dry as possible and most importantly, getting liquids in to her, be it water or whatever medicines he could make for such a severe case. During times of delirium, she had begun to murmur and fret, but no intelligible words could be made out by any of them. 

Gwen was tasked both with keeping the linens clean and dry, helping to get water into the girl and cooking up the onions when one compress cooled off and another was needed. Merlin's job became finding even more of the vegetable in question, and he would then take short forays into the surrounding forests, searching for whatever herbs, bark, and roots Gaius needed to mix his medicines. He also enlisted an impressive collection of local children and some of the minor servants to help him, yet found no one who had ever seen or heard of the girl. She had literally just appeared on the castle grounds, trying to enter the castle, and had ended up in Gaius' chambers.

Fortunately, for his first full day back in Camelot, Arthur had graciously allowed Merlin a day off, but with the patient they had in their quarters, he barely had enough time to rest. 

So it was no wonder that when Merlin was due back in the royal quarters, he was draped across one of Gaius' tables, one arm pillowing his head, and dead asleep. Gaius was sitting with the patient, diligently mopping her sweating brow and face with cool compresses while Gwen went for fresh linens and more blankets. On the hearth, yet another batch of onions simmered, while on the worktable next to the screen, the last of the muslin used to wrap the compress of onions in was laid out, waiting for the newest poultice to be made. Another workspace held several candles which were heating small glass bowls and tubes to boiling to make the extracts and concoctions Gaius needed.

On that morning -the second day after the girl's arrival- there was a peremptory knock on his door. With a sigh, Gaius settled a cool cloth over the girl's eyes, stood up, partially stooped from sitting so long, and made his way to the door. He stood up even straighter when he pulled the door open to see a perturbed Arthur, hand to his nose, standing against the wall back from the doorway. Gaius' head tipped slightly as he regarded his Prince.

“My lord?” he asked, allowing the man room to come inside.

“Where is he?” Arthur growled, not moving from his spot and adding, “Some folks have complained about an overwhelming aroma of onions about the south tower. Why am I not surprised to discover that this is the source?”

Gaius smiled slightly, tipping his head. “I am afraid I am to blame, sire, both for the preponderance of onions and Merlin not being at his station this morning.” Gaius stepped aside, nodding at where Merlin was passed out at the table where, he had obviously been helping Gaius get his medicinal stock prepared. Arthur was about to say something when he blinked and looked at Gaius, still not moving from where he stood in the hallway. 

“You're to blame?” He asked.

“Yes sire, I have a patient with a very bad case of pneumonia that I'm treating and I'm afraid Merlin's been helping me with it since he arrived home from patrol. Insisted on helping actually.” Gaius stepped back further into the room, holding the door open still and nodding at the prince to enter. “It's good of you to come here, Your Highness; it saves me the trouble of trying to track you down. Please, come in a moment?”

Arthur looked at him dubiously. “Pneumonia, did you say?”

“I know it's rather strong - the onions - but you get used to it within a few moments, and you'll hardly notice,” Gaius remarked, and seeing the look of distrust on Arthur's face, he wryly added, “And at this moment, this room is probably the safest room in the entirety of Camelot against diseases.”

“Because of onions?” Arthur asked as he reluctantly entered the chambers.

“Onion poultices have the desired effect of breaking up and drawing out infections in the lungs. In the right concoction with honey, and sometimes licorice and hore-hound, it acts as a soothing cough medicine.” Gaius explained shutting the door. Arthur stayed at the door as Gaius checked on the latest batch of simmering onions and then led the prince to the screens. 

Arthur shot Merlin an irritated glare as he passed by, and was about to wake him when Gaius forestalled him. 

“Let his tardiness be on me, sire. He's been up nearly forty-eight hours now helping me with her,” Gaius nodded and folded back one of the wooden screen panels to give Arthur a view of the patient.

Arthur frowned and looked to where she lay. 

“She's very, very ill. If something doesn't occur with this case within the next day, I am afraid we will lose her.” Gaius remarked matter-of-factly. “And since you are here so conveniently, my lord, let me also add that I believe this girl may, in fact, be your intruder from the other day.”

“The intruder?” Arthur looked from the girl to Gaius, a stern expression on his face. “And I am only finding out about this now?”

“Yes,” Gaius nodded. “I have been rather preoccupied keeping her alive.” 

He could see the storm brewing in Arthur's eyes, and the questions were about to spill from his lips when Gaius forestalled him again. “Before you say anything, Arthur,” he said gently, “Let me just say this. I found her here in my chambers the night of the intrusion, unresponsive and unconscious. She's not been very aware of her surroundings, so there has been no sense in trying to figure out who she is or why she is here. Gwen, Merlin and myself have been working at keeping her alive since.”

“Gwen?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, my lord, Gwen. She's been an excellent nurse before, especially with female patients, and has been of invaluable assistance for me. The same goes for Merlin. He's been getting all of my fresher supplies and preparing them while I've been treating her. Could you not forgive him this once for not being at your side on time today?” Gaius looked at the younger man expectantly, waiting patiently for the information he had just given him to sink in.

Arthur sighed, his shoulders dropping as the tension left, and he stepped over to inspect the patient more closely.

“She's no more than a girl,” he remarked., before straightening up. “Hardly a threat...” he added thoughtfully.

“I surmise she might be between twelve and fifteen years old.”

“And she hasn't woken up once since you found her in here?”

“Not coherently, no. Due to the coughing and the severity of the infection, she hasn't spoken much, but when she does manage to speak, Merlin and I cannot make any sense of it.” Gaius looked at Arthur with a soft smile on his lips. “I might also add that Merlin has been trying for the last two days to figure out who she is and where she came from but to no avail. No one has seen her before.”

“She just appeared out of thin air and walked straight into the castle Square?” Arthur asked suspiciously.

“Hardly walked – stumbled is more like it - and in her condition, I am convinced she doesn't even know where she is. For an intruder, she's the most harmless one I have seen yet.”

“And remarkably lucky,” Arthur said and looked at the girl again. “Was there anything on her? Something to identify her?”

“Only a burlap sack and a bit of twine to hold it on, which I took the liberty to burn. It needed it.” 

“Nothing else?” Arthur asked.

“Not a thing.”

“Where the hell could she have come from? Why would she make her way here, of all places?”

“I don't know that, Arthur, and we may never know, seeing how the situation stands. I have dealt with stubborn pneumonia cases before, but this one is very grave. This intrusion is simply a case of a sick and dying girl wandering into the wrong place. Nothing more.”

Arthur studied the patient a few minutes more then heaved another sigh. “Very well, I'll let Father know about it. Just keep me posted on what happens.” Then he glanced over at Merlin with a smirk on his face. “Tell him he'd better be on time in the morning or--”

“He'll be mucking out the stables again?” Gaius asked before frowning thoughtfully, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Don't you have stable boys for that?”

Arthur snorted softly and a wry smile curled his lips. “Yes, Gaius, I do. Just tell him he'd better be on time tomorrow before I think of something suitably nasty for him to do.” Arthur headed for the door.

“A word of advice, sire?” Gaius said when the prince opened the door to the chambers. Arthur, raising an eyebrow, looked at the old man curiously and cautiously.

Gaius gave him one of his tactful smiles. “The aroma of all the alliums tends to cling to clothing. You may want to change and get your clothes laundered before you venture out for your day.”

“Oh, lovely,” Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes. “Just what I need. To show up for training reeking like an onion.” Gaius' chuckle was all he heard as he walked away. 

Gaius shut the door, turned around and hesitated when he spotted Merlin, with a grin on his face, turning his head towards him and blinking sleepily.

“Could be worse,” Merlin mumbled cheekily, “He could just show up reeking like himself!”

Gaius looked at Merlin aghast for a split second, “Have you been awake all this time?” he snapped. 

Merlin's grin lit up his face, “Mostly.” He stifled a yawn and slowly sat up, rubbing at the crick in his neck. “Thanks for doing that,” he added, as he began toeing off his boots.

Gaius huffed and turned towards the hearth. “Doing what?” He grumbled, grabbing a ladle and stirring at the onions.

“Vouching for our patient and getting me another day off.” Merlin rose, leaving his boots to fall where they would, and stretched to his full, rather tall, height. Running a hand through his dark hair, he ruffled it up and didn't try stopping himself from yawning again. 

“Well...” Gaius grumbled, irritation abated, “You have been very helpful lately and you're exhausted.” He looked over at him. “Help me with this compress Merlin then go upstairs to bed.”

“You really think she might not make it?” Merlin asked, moving to help Gaius lift the pot from the hearth.

“If that chest infection does not start breaking up tonight, she won't be alive by the morning.” Gaius stated flatly. “No sense in worrying Arthur, or Uther, for that matter, about a dying intruder. Besides, what harm can she possibly do now? She's too ill.” 

“I could always..?” Merlin started and was stopped by a stern glare from Gaius.

“We've had this discussion once before, Merlin. Don't even consider it.”

Merlin raised his hands in surrender. “All right, just thought I'd ask.”

“Besides, I would have done it earlier myself, but these things must take their natural course, you know that,” Gaius gently admonished as he folded the muslin in two.

“Yes, yes...” Merlin conceded as he snatched up a slotted spoon for Gaius to use. “It's just sad in a way. Where's her family? Do they know where she's at? Or is she just a pauper with nothing and no one and nobody to mourn her if she should die?”

As he ladled steaming onions out of the pot, Gaius gave a sigh. “She is certainly full of mystery, this little one. But don't give up hope, Merlin. She's still alive; we're not through here yet.”

Indeed they weren't.

Once again during that time when babies were wont to be born, when most sane people slept, a turn occurred. 

Merlin sat trying not to nod off while Gaius slept. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought off sleep, and clutched his book of spells with his other hand. He was loath to wake Gaius up. Earlier that evening the physician had been called away to an emergency regarding an orphanage child who was slowly dying of a wasting disease and had come home exhausted. Both Merlin and Gwen insisted that he sleep, and not long after that, Merlin convinced Gwen that she too should go home and get some rest. Now the only soul left awake, he had fetched his book of magic and was studying it as he kept a vigil over the girl. Fretful for most of the night, the cool compresses were not doing much to settle her down.

So it was that a drowsy and nodding Merlin was the first one at hand when a change came over their patient.

A wet, strangled choking sound snapped Merlin's eyes open. The girl, eyes half open and glinting bright from the fever, was open mouthed, attempting to take a breath as a convulsion racked her body. Surprise turned to utter dread when a bubble of pus mingled with streaks of dark red appeared on her lips. She began to choke.

Merlin nearly jumped again when Gaius, awake in a flash and silent as a cat, suddenly appeared at his shoulder. “Quickly, son, sit her up!” he urged, snatching up a nearby pot. Merlin lurched forward, book tumbling from his lap, and he pulled the girl upright. “Turn her on her side, that's it,” Gaius ordered as he set the pot down and took the girl's head gently in his hands. “Give her back and shoulders support, Merlin, this might take a while.” Gaius briefly released her head and pulled the girl's hands away from trying to claw at her throat.

Instantly obeying, Merlin was about to ask another question when the girl convulsed again, and a gut-wrenching, body-shaking cough suddenly brought up more of the bloody pus. Merlin's mouth set in a grim line as he held her in place, half hanging from the cot as she ejected more and more of the mucus with each cough. She struggled for breath between rounds, trying to suck in air as the staggering amount of drainage from her infected lungs began streaming out of her mouth.

“That's it,” Gaius was murmuring gently, his head near the girl's ear. “That's it, dear. Bring it up, keep coughing. That's it.” He began lightly thumping his fist gently between her shoulder blades.

Even as inured to sickness and injury as he was, Merlin hadn't seen anything quite like this in his life. He briefly turned his head away so as not to watch, keeping the girl in place as the hard coughing shook not only herself but Merlin and the cot as well. He glanced at Gaius, whose face was carefully neutral and settled with the confidence of knowing exactly what he was doing with his patient. 

For several minutes the struggle went on, involving several more rounds of choking but eventually the ichor pouring from the girl's mouth lessened to a dribble and finally began coming out in small, irregularly spaced amounts.

“That's a girl,” Gaius continued to murmur as the girl's coughing subsided. Her body heaved as she sucked in air.“You're going to be all right. Merlin, would you get the water flask?” 

As gentle as a mother with a baby, the physician cupped the girl's head in one hand and gently lowered her back onto the cot. He pulled away the poultice as Merlin passed him a water flask, then slipped the girl's arms back under the blankets. He tucked them in around her as she lay grey-faced and drenched in sweat. “I don't think we'll need these any more,” Gaius said, handing the spent poultice to him. “Could you get me that cough medicine I made earlier too?”

“Is she..?” Merlin started to ask as he did what he was bidden.

“She'll be all right, Merlin. This is very good. The infection has broken up along with some abscesses that can form in bad cases like this. The onions have done their work.” Gaius smiled in satisfaction as he accepted the cough medicine from Merlin. “Here you go, dear. Drink this,” Gaius murmured gently as he slipped the mouth of the flask between her lips. So spent from the ordeal, she only managed to drink a small amount before she literally fell asleep with the flask between her lips and her head still in Gaius' gloved hand. He pulled the flask back as Merlin handed him another cool compress. Gaius looked up at him, a smile on his lips. He wiped her face and then settled the damp cloth over her eyes.

“A bit dramatic, but very good. We've turned the corner.” He smiled in relief. “I dare say we may learn who we have here in the morning.” With care he settled her head back into the pillow, readjusted the blankets, and with a thoughtful look on his features, gently patted her shoulder.

“Really?” Merlin asked, looking at Gaius innocently. “Does that mean we can start getting rid of all these onions?”

Gaius, for a split second, looked at Merlin in complete consternation before beginning to chuckle. “Yes, Merlin, we can. This chamber does need a proper airing out doesn't it? On the second shelf, on the right, at the back, there is a small pot with a red wax seal. Would you get it for me?”

“You really think things have turned for the better then?” Merlin asked, picking up his book from where it had fallen and rising.

“With this infection breaking up, most certainly. The fever should break soon as well. Then she'll need a great deal of bed rest and liquids.”

Merlin, searching the crammed-to-overflowing stock of prepared medicines on Gaius' shelf, reached to the back of it and pulled out a tiny crock with a seal of red wax. He held it up, looking at Gaius curiously.

“Yes, that's it,” he said, rising briefly from his stool, and moving the vile pot out of the way. He leaned across the table and found a small knife as Merlin came back over and handed him the little sealed crock. Both sat back down as Gaius worked at breaking the wax around the pot. “From one extreme to another, but hopefully much better this time,” Gaius said mysteriously as he worked the wax off.

Merlin was about to ask what he meant when the aroma of what the pot contained hit his nose. “Whoa!” he breathed as the scent of peppermint, strong peppermint, wafted towards him.

Gaius chuckled again. “Concoction I made for the particularly bad pneumonia cases. Coltsfoot, lobelia, a few other herbs for helping with congestion and peppermint. All to help with breathing.” Gaius gently pulled the blanket back to expose the girl's breastbone then carefully daubed a small amount of the ointment on and gently rubbed it in. “Don't want to apply too much of it; it can cause blistering otherwise.”

“At least it smells better,” Merlin cracked as both men watched the girl for a moment. She seemed to relax a little. Gaius smiled. “Peppermint can work wonders, especially in difficult cases.”

“Like onions?” Merlin teased.

“I am probably never going to hear the end of those, am I?” 

“Not for a while.” Merlin confirmed. “Everyone in the south tower is quite sick of them.” He smiled back at the physician. 

“It's only been three days,” Gaius grumbled back. Movement caused them both to look at the girl. She stirred a little, and as Gaius pulled the cloth over her eyes away, they could see she was struggling to open them.

“No, no,” Gaius murmured, tucking the blankets back up to her neck. “Just sleep now.” She struggled to speak, her eyes barely opening. Merlin reached for the water flask, handing it to Gaius.  
For a moment the girl simply drank, closing her eyes briefly against the effort of doing such a simple thing. Once the flask was pulled away, however, she opened them again

Both men could see she was trying to focus on Gaius' face. “You're all right.” Gaius reassured, patting her shoulder gently. “You're safe, just rest now. Go back to sleep.” 

For a split second, they both could see comprehension fill those tired, bruised, fever bright eyes. Gaius dampened the cloth afresh and gently wiped her face. A relived sigh escaped her lips. In a voice barely above a whisper she said her first word to them.

“Þance.” Then her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

Very, very slowly Gaius and Merlin looked at each other over their patient, the room suddenly and abruptly quiet. Astonishment, mingled with dread and apprehension, descended on the room.

“Did she just speak in..?” Merlin asked, perplexed. 

“The Old Tongue, yes,” Gaius confirmed. “Thanks. She said thanks.”

“But...” Merlin started as he nodded his head in affirmation. “There is no magic in this girl --none at all. I'd know it!”

“Just because she speaks it doesn't necessarily mean she practices it,” Gaius warned gently. “The priestesses and sorcerers had servants and slaves who could speak the Old Tongue. I wonder....” Gaius suddenly drifted off into deep thought.

“You think she might be a runaway slave? Or a servant? Maybe the people she was with left her behind because she got sick?” Merlin asked pulling the old man back out of his reverie.

“That's all very possible,” Gaius mused. “She could even be an escaped sacrifice. Oh, don't look at me like that,” he said irritably. “You know very well human sacrifices still go on to this day.”

Gaius shook his head. Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he added, “But why speak the Old Tongue? Our language is the common language. The Old Tongue was usually only spoken during special circumstances, even before the Great Purge. And when that started anyone speaking it was marked, either for death as a practitioner of magic or banished as an accomplice to sorcerers. No one, besides us--” he looked meaningfully at Merlin, “--speaks it, with the exception of the druids.” Gaius frowned and studied his sleeping patient. “At any rate, especially during times of extreme illness, the normal tendency of people is to speak in their native tongue.”

“No one has spoken the Old Tongue as a native language in Camelot in decades.” Merlin pointed out.

“Not just in Camelot, my boy. It hasn't been a common language in the entirety of this country. It became almost exclusively that of the practitioners of magic and any creatures that were of magic who could speak. Like the Sidhe or the dragons.”

“Could she be..?” Merlin paused, a ghost of pain haunting his eyes. “Could she be cursed?” Thoughts of Freya drifted between them.

“Wouldn't you know it?” Gaius asked gently. “You did with Freya. You knew something was special about her.”

“True.” Merlin relaxed. “Not saying that she isn't special...” he nodded at the girl. “There's just nothing magic about her.”

Gaius heaved a sigh, placing his gloved hands on his knees ready to stand up. Outside, seemingly far off, a cock could be heard crowing. “Well, at any rate, we won't learn more for the time being. She needs to sleep. I need mine, and you...” Gaius rose and looked down at Merlin with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk on his face. “You need to go to work.”

Merlin groaned. “I've been up all night,” he grumbled, reaching down to grab his book. Gaius, still smirking, reached over and removed it from his hand. Merlin looked at him, perplexed.

“I can return that to its place. You can take that away--” Gaius nodded at the pot full of nastiness awaiting removal. “--since you are about to leave. And when you go, have someone leave a message for Gwen for me.”

Merlin smiled ruefully at him and bent to pick up the pot in question. “I know when I am not wanted.”

“Nonsense,” Gaius said smiling. “You just have responsibilities to take care of.”

“Arthur is more that just a responsibility,” Merlin grumbled, preparing to leave. “Overwhelming burden maybe?”

“And you wouldn't have it any other way,” Gaius said following Merlin to the door. “Oh, take this as well.” He snatched up the spent onion poultice and draped it across the pot he held. Merlin just looked at him in disgust as Gaius, tipping his head back, smiled at him in elderly superiority. “Try not to fall asleep. You know how Arthur likes to take his displeasure out on you on the training field when you do.”

“Yes, Mother,” Merlin joked as he left.

*

When Guinevere finally arrived at the royal physicians chambers and was bidden to enter, she found a pleasant surprise. The onion aroma was distinctly diminished. She blinked in surprise, arms filled to overflowing as she stepped inside to see Gaius putting a few things away. On a nearby table, an aromatic smoke was wafting up from a small brazier, and she thought she detected the smell of peppermint and lavender.

“Oh, no!” Gwen exclaimed looking towards the screens. “Did she...?”

“No!” Gaius said, smiling down at her as he relieved her of some of her burdens. “She's doing much better. Take a look.” He nodded at the screens.

Gwen blinked a moment and then poked her head around the screen. The girl lay there, sleeping. Colour had returned to her features, though she was still unnaturally pale. There was no compress over her eyes, and she seemed to be breathing easier. Gwen looked at him in astonishment.

“The poultice worked,” he said not without some professional pride. “The infection broke up early this morning and her fever has dropped. She's finally getting some well-earned sleep.”

“That's wonderful!” Gwen said. “Has she said who she is?”

“No...” Gaius said. “Not yet anyway. She's been sleeping well since then. She needs it.”

“Right,” Gwen scrunched her shoulders apologetically and lowered her voice. “I brought the clean blankets and bedding. And I found some clothes I think will fit her.” She set her stack down on a nearby stool. “A couple of simple dresses and a night shirt. Nothing too elaborate or rich.”

“I'm sure they will be quite practical,” Gaius reassured. “You don't mind staying and watching her while I go and do some sadly neglected rounds? That is, if you aren't otherwise occupied?”

“Not at all. I've done a few odd jobs this morning and am not needed for anything for the rest of the day.”

“You're very kind, Gwen. I will see to it you're well taken care of for this.”

“Oh, no, Gaius, really. I don't do this for money!” she protested.

“Which is exactly why I will see that you get things you need.” Gaius smiled at her as he went to retrieve his apothecary case. “She may wake up, Gwen. Just be gentle with her. Make sure she gets plenty of water, and I will have someone from the royal kitchens bring around some chicken broth in case she's up to eating anything. Nothing solid for her just yet.” He paused at the door looking at Gwen severely. “She'll be coughing up a bloody mucus too. Don't be alarmed by it, it's a good thing. Also there is a great possibility that she may be a foreigner.”

“A foreigner?” Gwen asked, looking at him in surprise.

“She woke up very briefly after the infection started breaking up. She seems to understand our language but...” He paused a moment.

“But?” Gwen prompted looking at him with uncertainty.

“She only mentioned one word and it wasn't in our tongue, so just be prepared for that. Just reassure her, as you always do with my patients, and we shall see what comes later,” Gaius said tugging the door open. “Also, there's more of that incense I made up to sweeten the air in the room, feel free to keep using it for the time being. And don't you dare start going around cleaning up this room.” Gaius waggled a mocking finger at her.

Gwen just smiled at him, both knowing perfectly well that that was exactly what she was going to do to keep herself occupied until he returned.

The girl slept most of that time, and it was getting on late in the day when Gwen, cleaning up the area around the patient, heard a small whimper then a coughing. She smiled down as the girl coughed up phlegm, and her eyes began to open.

“Here you go...” Gwen murmured, pulling up the stool to sit. She daubed at the girl's lips and watched as she struggled to open her eyes.

Eyes an even darker brown that her own focused slowly on her, and a frown appeared on the girl's face. 

“It's all right.” Gwen reassured, giving her a smile. “My name is Gwen.” The girl regarded her steadily for a long moment, trepidation and a trace of fear in her eyes. “Can I get you anything?”

The girl said nothing, just staring at Gwen, and then began taking in the area that made up her 'room'. She finally focused on Gwen again.

“Would you like some water?” Gwen cautiously asked, wondering if the girl understood her at all. When she didn't respond, Gwen lifted the flask. “Water?” she asked again.

“Wæter?” the girl asked in a voice still not above a whisper. 

“Yes! Water.” Gwen smiled at her, noticing the oddly accented voice, and reaching for a nearby cup. With care, she helped the girl to drink. She seemed so utterly relieved, and even that small amount of effort left her with drooping eyes as she laid back into the pillow. 

“I'm Gwen,” Guinevere said pointing at herself, seeing if she could coax a name from the patient. The girl didn't respond and struggled to keep her eyes open a few minutes longer before she began to cough.

Thwarted, Gwen simply minded her patient, and by the time she had settled back down, the girl had drifted back to sleep. She studied her thoughtfully for a long moment before she finally rose and resumed her activities.

Gaius returned home shortly before nightfall, Merlin, who had run into the physician while they were about errands in the lower town, in tow Merlin was talking about some of the day's activities when Gaius opened the door, and Merlin stopped dead in his tracks, smiling in delight.

“Whoaa!” he breathed, taking in the rare sight of the tidy chambers and a distinct lack of a certain pungent, tear inducing odor.

“Gwen, really!” Gaius admonished, as Gwen smiled up at them from the hearth. She had two sets of kettles rigged up, and food was wafting a tantalizing aroma towards them.

“Oh, now I could get used to coming home to something like this,” Merlin said stepping inside and allowing the door to swing shut. His smile alone lit the room up.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Gaius responded in mock indignation.

“If you weren’t always tied up with Arthur, you could cook for Gaius. I've heard stories about your camp stew, you know,” Gwen replied.

“Well, er, erm...” Merlin suddenly stammered, eliciting a laugh from Gwen.

“How's our patient?” Gaius asked, setting his things down and promptly re-cluttering a table.

“See for yourself.” Gwen smiled serenely as Merlin looked over her shoulder at what the kettles held.

“Ahh,” Gaius sounded pleased. “She's been awake.” His patient was still asleep, with the blankets now pushed down from her neck, her arms laid comfortably across her stomach. He was pleased to see more colour on her cheeks as well.

“Not for very long,” Gwen replied, “but long enough to get her into a clean nightshirt and to help her drink some water. That alone exhausted her, poor thing. She promptly went right back to sleep.”

“Did she say anything? A name? Anything?” Merlin asked, reaching for the nearest ladle. Gwen smacked his hand, shooting him a friendly scowl, and turned towards Gaius.

“No...” she said slowly, biting her lip with uncertainty, “Well, yes, but nothing very helpful.”

“What did she say?” Gaius asked and he checked the girl's pulse, before feeling for the state of her fever.

“She asked for water. Well, she just said something like 'wheater' in a very strange accent. And that was all. She understood me well enough, though.”

“No name though?” Merlin asked.

“No,” Gwen shook her head. “She's very, very weak.”

“After this infection, she will be for some time,” Gaius remarked, rising from beside the girl's cot. “Fever's down quite a bit as well. That's even better. Was she able to take any broth?” he asked Gwen.

“No, she just wanted water.”

“Better than nothing,” he remarked finding his way to the hearth and peering into the kettles.

“Cook sent the broth and a chicken stew as well.” Gwen said.

“With onions?” Gaius asked innocently. Merlin groaned. 

Gwen laughed. “I don't think anyone in this tower is going to let you near an onion for quite some time,” Gwen declared.

“Pity. It's most underrated,” Gaius remarked. “Stay for supper, Gwen, I insist,” he said when she was about to protest. “You've earned at least that much.”

* 

Merlin had insisted on walking Gwen home when they had finished their meal together. They ambled along the streets of the lower town.

“Gwen...” Merlin said as they slowly approached her home in the fading light of the day. “If you, erm, happen to run into Arthur, don't mention anything about Gaius' patient to him just yet.”

“Why would I be running into Arthur?” Gwen automatically responded, turning an inquiring look to Merlin. “And why not tell him about her? Does he know?”

“Yes, he knows now,” Merlin said. “Gaius told him everything this morning.”

“That she's the intruder?” Gwen looked surprised.

“Everything,” Merlin said with emphasis. “What he doesn't know is that she didn't die in the night. And that she apparently doesn't speak our language.”

“And you're not telling him why?” Gwen asked.

“We just need to get a little more information from her first and to let it settle in at the castle that she is just a sick, delirious, stranger who wandered into the wrong place. Arthur believes it anyway, and Uther appears not to care, especially because it seemed like she was about to die last night.”

“Only she didn't.”

“Exactly,” Merlin nodded, folding his arms against the chill in the night air. “We'll let him know once we can figure out who she is and where she's from.”

“But why so secretive?” she asked. “Why not just tell him?”

“She's still very sick, Gwen,. Can you imagine being in that state and being interrogated by the prince of the realm? Or worse, the King seeking information on Morgana?”

“Well,” Gwen sighed, tugging her shawl closer, “you do have a point.”

“Just leave it to Gaius and myself. We'll let him know eventually, but this patient needs to recover a little before he begins asking any questions. If she's even capable of answering them.”

“Well, she sounded coherent enough.” Gwen pointed out.

“She only said one word to you though, Gwen, and it could just be similar in several different languages.”

“But where else could she be from? And how did she get this far as to actually enter the castle grounds?”

“We won't know until we can get some answers from her and for that she still needs a little time to recover.” Merlin stopped as they came to her door. “So no telling Arthur just yet?”

“I doubt I'll see him, but yes, I'll wait. Just don't keep _him_ waiting.”

“I know how he gets when that happens,” Merlin replied dryly. “Don't worry, we'll let him know when it's appropriate.” With a reassuring smile, he bade Gwen goodnight and after her door closed, he rushed back home.

He wasn't surprised to find that Gaius had woken their guest and was gently coaxing medicines into her during the interval it took for Merlin to walk Gwen home. As he cautiously appeared around the screen, she was struggling weakly, reacting to one of the concoctions the physician was gently but firmly insisting she take. Merlin smiled in sympathy, pulling a stool closer to the cot, and for a quick second, they made eye contact. It was apparent in that brief amount of time that Gaius had been able to somehow communicate with the girl and was getting some vitally needed medicines into her.

“That's more like it,” Gaius said. He had sat the girl up, his arm supporting her back and shoulders while handing the vile medicine bottle to Merlin. He patted her shoulder. “I know it's nasty to the taste, but you must get it in you. A cup of that water, Merlin?” he indicated the cup Gwen had left behind. 

With a shaking hand, the girl was able to help hold the cup as she drank the water. Relieved, she sank back into the pillow when Gaius had finished, and for a few moments, she kept her eyes closed. But then she fluttered them open and somberly looked between both men, saying nothing.

Gaius briefly caught Merlin's eye and twitched his brow. “You know and speak the Old Tongue far better than I, son. You take the lead.”

Raising a cautious hand and nodding, Merlin looked at the girl and gave her a reassuring smile. “Hwá sy þín naman?” he asked, “I'm Merlin,” he said, laying his hand against his chest. 

For a split second, the girl's dark eyes opened wide with surprise, and she simply stared at him a moment. In a whisper she replied. “Mirin.”

“Yes. Merlin. I'm Merlin.“Hwá sy þín naman?” 

She frowned at him a moment. “Mirin,” she whispered again. 

Merlin looked perplexed at Gaius for a moment and was about to ask again when Gaius set his hand on Merlin's arm. 

“I think she's trying to say that her name is Mirin. Is that right?” he asked her. She focused on Gaius, and her head nodded in affirmation. Relief seemed to flood through both men. Gaius smiled in delight as Merlin blushed and chuckled.

“I'm sorry. I thought you were trying to say Merlin!” 

A tiny smile appeared briefly on Mirin's lips.

“I'm Gaius, Mirin, and I am very glad to meet you. I'm a physician. Do you know what's happened to you?”

Here she just looked at him and shook her head.

“You've been very sick,” Gaius explained carefully, “but you are going to get better. Can you tell me where you're from?”

Mirin only looked at him blankly before her gaze flicked to Merlin with a hint of pleading her eyes.

“Fram hwá léodscipe cymst þu?” he asked. 

Gaius nodded in approval, barely translating in his own mind that Merlin was asking her where her people were from.

Mirin looked at Merlin, and an aching sadness crept into her expressive eyes. She coughed, closing her eyes wearily for a moment, and then looked at Merlin again. 

“Héahsæ,” she whispered, weariness making her appear even sadder. “Héahsæ,” she repeated.

Both men looked at each other, equally puzzled as Mirin's eyes drooped with fatigue.

“High sea?” Merlin asked, “Never heard of a place called that in these parts.”

“Nor I.” Gaius mused thoughtfully. “Ask her why she's here?”

“Mirin,” Merlin gently coaxed the girl back awake. “Forhwon bist þu hér?”

There was a long pause before she mustered an answer. Gaius was about to stop the questions and allow her to go back to sleep when she responded.

“Nearuþearf hámsíðan,” she barely managed to whisper, struggling with sudden emotion. Mirin heaved a tired, deep sigh, unable to keep her eyes open. “Nearuþearf hámsíðan.” 

Another sigh escaped her lips and this time they did not prevent her from going back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

“She must not have understood you?” Gaius raised a questioning eyebrow at Merlin. “That didn't seem like quite the right answer.”

“It sounded more like the answer of someone who is homesick,” Merlin said slowly. He shrugged, looking at Gaius. “She just wants to go home. Can't really blame her, right? She's alone, in a foreign country, doesn't seem to be able to speak the language, and she’s been deathly ill. She's got no family and friends around her.”

“Well,” Gaius said, smiling gently and reached over to pull the blankets back up around Mirin's neck. “At least she has us. But this is going to be a very delicate situation until we can figure out more about her.” He looked sombrely at a puzzled Merlin. “We can't let her near Arthur and --god forbid-- Uther. If either one of them should hear her talk...”

“But she hasn’t really said anything just yet,” Merlin pointed out. “Just one or two words.”

“That could be because she's still very ill or,” Gaius frowned, losing himself in thought. Merlin paused, eyeing him for a long moment. 

“Or...?” he egged on.

“She could be a monoglot.” 

Merlin looked at Gaius in consternation. “A what?”

“You heard me. It means a person who can only speak in one language. In her case, she can understand the common tongue well enough, but can only speak in her own.”

“Which just happens to be one of the most dangerous languages to know around here.” Merlin replied dryly.

“Not to mention she did trespass on the castle grounds,” Gaius added.

“Well, we're just all sweetness and light, aren't we?” 

“Facing reality isn't pretty at times, Merlin,” Gaius grumbled. “We must also consider the idea that she could have been someone's slave, maidservant, or even an acolyte for the high priestesses. She may have just been left somewhere to die from this illness. Or she could be completely lost. In any respect, what is to become of her when she recovers? Mirin has put us in a tricky position. What we need now is time to find her people and get her home.”

“What if we can't find her people? Then what?” Merlin asked.

“Now who's being all sunshine and lightness?” Gaius retorted. 

Merlin just smiled back at him. “An even bigger mystery is how she has managed to survive this long.”

“She very nearly didn't, and since all she's manage to provide for us is a name, she's becoming even more of a mystery. I wonder if there is a druid enclave we can get a message to see if they may know anything?”

“Any self-respecting druids are as far from Camelot right now as they can be.”

Gaius sighed, “True.” He slowly stood up from the stool he had been sitting on. “I'm going to go and see to a few of my patients. Do you mind staying here and keeping an eye on things until I get back?”

“When have I ever minded having a chance to stay home for an evening?” Merlin asked. 

Gaius turned and gave him an admonishing look. “Don't you dare go practising anything while we have a guest in this chamber. We don't know a thing about her, and she knows nothing of us,” Gaius warned. “You could frighten her into a relapse.”

“Me?” Merlin protested. “Have you seen yourself in fit of righteous passion?” Merlin shook his head. “You're enough to wake the dead.”

“I beg your pardon!” Gaius protested, but Merlin only grinned at him, handing him his bag and shooing him out door.

*

For several days, nothing much more was learned about Mirin. She mostly slept, which Gaius insisted she be allowed to do. Waking intervals were understandably short, but during those times, he managed to get nourishment into her, and she began to wake for longer periods. To both Merlin and Gaius' frustration, she hardly spoke. Mostly she relied on simple gestures and nods, and when she did speak she only used the Old Tongue.

In the safety of the physician's chambers, Merlin continued trying to speak to her in that language, but still she was tight-lipped about revealing anything of herself or her home. 

Aside from the discouraging lack of information from the girl, they both found her to be a quiet and perfectly mannered house guest. Some three days after the break up of the infection in her lungs, Gaius began finding small things for her to do, to keep her from being bored. It confirmed to him that she had worked at some point in time. He also found that she liked to sit quietly and leaf through some of his innumerable books. Mostly those with illustrations in them.

Silently observing her, he could tell she couldn't read, but her face sometimes grew intensely curious as she studied pictures of the animals, plants and creatures that filled so many of his books. It was during one of these surreptitious times of studying the girl that he watched her face grow pensive and sad as she silently paged her way through a book. 

Gaius waited until she had gone to bed for the night before he rose from concocting one of his innumerable potions and retrieved the book that had caused such a subtle change in her. It was a regional book, an old one describing some of the lands far to the south of them, well into King Odin's lands, and as far south as the regions around the Isle of Mora. 

As time passed, Merlin's life proceeded as normal, who continued his work as Arthur's manservant and his lessons in medicine and magic from Gaius. Gwen often visited and had offered to take Mirin with her on walks through the lower town and to the castle itself. At first Gaius had said no, purely from a physician's standpoint. Not only was Mirin not quite ready for that, but there was also a huge risk in allowing her out of their sight, where anyone could overhear her speaking in her own tongue. 

It was an unfortunate and frustrating situation Merlin knew only too well. She would have to hide a vital part of herself if she were to remain safe in Camelot, which was not unlike his own ridiculously perilous circumstance. So it was, with reluctance, Merlin carefully explained to her that what she could speak was forbidden in Camelot outside of the very chambers where she was staying.

Understandably confused at first she could only look at Merlin in consternation until he finally explained that even he could not speak their language outside of Gaius' chambers. It pained him to see the look of sadness creeping across her face as the information he was giving her finally sunk in. With equal reluctance, she nodded her head in agreement.

*

Gwen took her around for her first outing and had found a simple, dark blue dress with a green over tunic that fit her perfectly. Borrowing a barrette from Gwen, they caught back her black curls and for the first time she looked like an ordinary young lady. Shoes were the only sticking point. Mirin flat refused them. A disgruntled Gaius had to step in then and tell the girl that she either wore something on her feet or she wouldn't be going anywhere. Mirin finally compromised and accepted wearing sandals. With a gentle caution to Gwen to refrain from allowing Mirin to push herself, the two finally set foot outside of the south tower.

If she hadn't been so pale, Mirin could have passed herself off as a distant relation to Gwen. As it was, the town folks who knew Gwen soon became amused at the silent little creature tagging along in her shadow as she would go about her errands in the lower town. Most of them thought that the girl was just extraordinarily shy until Gwen explained that she was mute. At first, the trips were very short due to Mirin's compromised health, but they gradually increased with time. 

Together Gwen and the girl worked out a simple pantomime for Mirin to use to communicate with her, which both Gaius and Merlin quickly picked up on as well. So it was Mirin began to learn about a small portion of the vast area known as the lower town. 

She tagged along obediently after Gwen, even carrying small items as her slowly returning strength allowed. With a careful eye and a request from Gaius, Gwen watched for anything that Mirin showed an interest in. Strangely there wasn't much, but Gwen did notice she would stare at the formidable fortifications that made up the great Citadel of Camelot. For that matter, the castle seemed to fascinate her, whereas she showed an odd lack if interest in anything else. Never disrespectful, she simply was uninterested in most things, and oddly, in most people around her. 

It was on one of their sojourns when the two girls were out that Gwen found herself in a tricky situation. 

They were in the craftsman's market where Gwen was searching for a few personal items. She was about to walk past a leather tanner's stall when she saw Mirin reaching up to touch a belt ornament out of the corner of her eye. Gwen blinked in surprise; it was the first time she had seen Mirin interested in something. 

The silver ornament was shaped like a snail's shell, and Mirin gazed at in a mixture of fascination and longing. Gwen crouched next to her, looking at the belt and reaching up to finger the butter soft leather.

“Do you like that?” she asked. Mirin looked away from the belt and at Gwen, trepidation in her eyes. “It's all right, Mirin,” Gwen smiled. “It's pretty isn't it? Do you like it?” 

Mirin nodded her head. Her attention was drawn back to the shell, and she traced a feather light line along one of its spirals. Gwen smiled at her, rising, and began talking to the tanner, unaware of who was approaching from behind. So intent on her conversation with the man, she didn't hear the hubbub that was beginning to swell amongst the crowd.

“Fancy meeting you here,” an all too familiar voice sounded from right behind Gwen. 

Gasping in fright, Gwen spun around, seeing Arthur standing behind her. A movement to her right warned Gwen that Mirin was literally trying to hide behind her. Leather swished and metal tinkled as she pushed her way behind Gwen.

“Arthur!” Gwen gasped. “You gave me a fright. What are you doing here?” It was then that the crowd parted, and Gwen stared at the king himself, who was also amongst the crowd. And approaching his son. Reaching a cautious hand behind her, Gwen's hand settled reassuringly on Mirin's arm.

“Father wanted to spend some time out, and I wanted a few things, so we came out to the markets,” Arthur explained. After nodding towards Uther, he suddenly noticed who Gwen was with. Arthur frowned and looked sharply at Gwen. “Is that who I think it is?” he asked.

Gwen looked at him wide-eyed, catching her lip with her teeth, and shrugging.”That depends on who you think she is?” she asked uncertainly.

“Gaius' patient? The one who was dying a week or so ago? Or so I was led to believe... I'm going to have to have a little discussion with Merlin. He hasn't said a word!”

“Why would he?” Gwen asked, keeping her hand on Mirin's arm as she cautiously peered around and up at Arthur. “And for what?”

Arthur pointed at Mirin studying the girl's pale face, dark eyes and extraordinary long black curls. “You know what for, Guinevere. I know you know she was the one intruding on the castle grounds.”

“And I know _you_ know she was delirious with sickness at the time.” Seeing Uther drawing closer Gwen turned quickly to address Mirin. “Don't be frightened; it's going to be fine,” she reassured and stood up straight. She looked Arthur in the eyes.

“You know Gaius is an excellent physician. He fought hard to save her life, and he succeeded. I want you to meet Mirin, Arthur,” She gently tugged Mirin around to stand in front of her, resting her hands securely on Mirin's shoulders. She leaned down, pitching her voice softly to Mirin's hearing. “Mirin, this is the Crown Prince, Arthur.”

To her utter surprise, Mirin stared a few moments at Arthur before dipping her head and curtsying.

Arthur stared at her a moment, completely speechless, and then looked at Gwen. She smiled at him, almost like a cat that had caught a canary, and he swallowed nervously.

“Umm, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mirin?” he said, rolling the strange name off his tongue. Mirin, her head still down, looked up at him with her dark eyes, unsure and silent as a mouse. Arthur frowned again.

“Mirin is a stranger to Camelot, Arthur,” Gwen said carefully. “She understands us, but she cannot speak our language. She's mute.”

Arthur instantly looked at Gwen, perplexed. “Mute?”

“Can't speak a word.”

At that moment Uther walked up behind Arthur and took in the scene before him. “What's this. then?” he asked as a pair of guards discreetly stood apart from them. A lone servant, who had been sent along to carry whatever merchandise the pair bought, blended seamlessly into the background.

Gwen's hands squeezed Mirin's shoulders and she bowed her knee before Uther. “Your Majesty,” she said, lowering her head a moment. Mirin had frozen into place.

She was staring with a mixture of fear and bewilderment into the sharply intelligent and intimidating light blue-grey eyes of Camelot's king. 

“Mirin,” Gwen whispered, urgent. “This is our king!” Uther was just beginning to frown in disapproval when Mirin abruptly curtsied, dropping her gaze to the ground. 

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, sire,” Gwen said, standing back upright. “This is Mirin. She is a stranger to Camelot and cannot...”

“A stranger?” Uther asked sharply, studying Mirin as Arthur shifted uncomfortably. The prince noticed Gwen stiffen, and her chin lifted, her face resolved to defend her charge. 

“Yes...” Arthur suddenly spoke up. “Remember a few weeks ago that intruder incident?”

Uther frowned, looking at Arthur before resuming his eagled-eyed scrutiny of Mirin. “This is the intruder?” he asked. “I was led to believe she was dying...” He looked at both Gwen and Arthur suspiciously.

“Indeed, she was,” Gwen affirmed. “I helped Gaius to nurse her. She very nearly died, and she's not one hundred percent well as yet. But she is very much alive, thanks to Gaius.”

“A stranger? To Camelot. Why wasn't I informed she'd recovered? She may have some information on...” Uther was about to speak when Gwen boldly interrupted him. 

“Sire,” she quickly interjected. “Mirin cannot speak. She's mute.”

Uther, looking hard and sharp at Gwen, froze for a split second. “Is this some sort of joke?” he asked, voice beginning to drip with sarcasm. He looked from Gwen to Arthur and then back at Mirin. 

Arthur just shook his head and held up a hand. “She understands proper protocol when in the presence of royalty, Father, yet hasn't said a word. What does that tell you?”

“Yet she seems to understand perfectly well...” Uther pointed out. He looked at Gwen. “I want to know if she knows anything about Morgana.”

“Sire, she can barely respond with gestures. We only know her name and that she might come from a place called High Sea. Other than that, we know nothing more. How would she know about our Lady Morgana?”

“High Sea?” Uther asked studying Gwen sharply. “Never heard of the place.”

“Neither has anyone else,” Gwen said. “And Gaius has been searching. He thinks it may be a place far south into King Odin's realm. We also think she could be someone's servant or slave who was left behind to die. Somehow she stumbled into Camelot.”

“What makes you think she was someone’s servant?” Uther asked, folding his arms across his chest and regarding them with his sharp eyes.

“Having been a servant all my life, my lord, I know another servant when I see one. Mirin's been doing small chores for Gaius. She can clean, and she's talented with a needle, and he's been able to get her to help make some of his medicines. Anything more is beyond our understanding at the moment. At any rate, sire, she's a stranger and alone and mute. That is enough to frighten any adult, much more so a girl barely in her teens,” Gwen replied carefully.

Uther pursed his lips in disapproval, studying them a few seconds more, and then he sighed and waved a dismissing hand. “Oh, all right.” He looked away and nodded at his servant. “Let's go, Arthur. We've better things to do with our time.” Uther began walking away.

“Yes, Father,” Arthur dutifully replied and prepared to leave. He looked at Gwen, a slight, approving, smile touching his lips as she seemed to visibly sag in relief. He reached inside his tunic, and, as discreetly as possible, he slipped a large coin in her hand. 

“Nice job,” he murmured to her. “I saw her looking at the belt. Why not buy it for her?” he added before turning to join his father.

Gwen blinked in surprise, looking down at the gold coin he had placed in her palm. A soft smile touched her lips as she watched his retreating back. Beside her, she felt Mirin shiver, and she too was watching the pair leave, a distinct look of fear in her eyes. 

*

Gaius was home when they returned to his chambers. He greeted them from where he was shuffling some of his papers around and looked up curiously as Mirin immediately made a straight line for her cot, vanishing behind the screen. Gwen silently closed the door as Gaius frowned.

“Mirin?” he asked, rising. 

Gwen motioned a cautious hand at him as she entered the room, setting a parcel or two on the nearest uncluttered table. He looked at her curiously and slightly alarmed. 

“What happened?” he asked, poking his head around Mirin's screen. She was curled on her side, eyes closed.

“We just had an encounter in the markets.” Gwen said. “It's left her exhausted.”

“An encounter?” Gaius's eyebrow shot up as he looked back at Gwen.

“Of the royal kind,” Gwen warned.

“Oh dear, don't tell me you ran into Arthur?”

“Not just Arthur. Uther as well.” Gwen added.

Gaius stared at her a moment longer before ushering her to sit down. “Tell me everything,” he said, moving to his hearth where a small pot was happily bubbling away. Gwen, with a sigh, settled onto the nearest stool and recounted the entire situation. When she finished, she had a cup of one of Gaius many tea blends in her hand, and he was looking deeply thoughtful.

“Sounds as though Uther won't address the matter again. For that I'm grateful. That was very courageous of you, Gwen. You certainly risked his ire standing up the way you did.”

“I just couldn't stand the idea of him interrogating her. She's scared enough as it is.” Gwen sighed. “I could feel her shaking when she was trying to hide behind me.”

“And fear is enough to exhaust anyone.”

“There was something else too,” Gwen said.

“Oh?” Gaius asked as Gwen dug out a small bag she used to carry coinage in.

“This is change left over from Arthur's coin. He gave it to me to buy a belt for Mirin. I figure you could keep an eye on it for her? Get her things she might need?”

“I think you'd be the better judge of that, Gwen,” Gaius replied with an impish twinkle in his eyes. “He paid for a belt?”

“Yes, she was looking at it in the market. It's the first time I have seen her express an interest in anything there beside the castle itself. I was going to try bartering the tanner down, but Arthur's generosity negated it. Though I did talk him down to something more reasonable. Hence the change.”

“What kind of belt?” Gaius asked. 

“Just a basic latch type. It has a long pointed snail shell on it. She seemed fascinated by it. Kept reaching up to touch it.”

“Interesting...” Gaius murmured. “She's still showing no interest in anyone or anything else?” 

“None,” Gwen shook her head sadly. “She just watches and looks and says nothing. Oh, she did do something else. She knew to curtsy to royalty.”

“That just tells us she knows proper manners, which she has already displayed.” Gaius murmured thoughtfully. “An interesting day all around.”

“Yes,” said Gwen, rising. “And I need to get home. Thank you for the tea. Tell Mirin I'll be back tomorrow.”

“Maybe this time you can show her some of the castle grounds?” Gaius suggested. “She might like the gardens.”

“I'll have to try that,” Gwen agreed and left.

Gaius sat for a few moments after she departed then rose and went to Mirin's cot. As he pulled up the stool and sat down, she open her eyes, looking utterly drained.

“Ic béo wérig,” she whispered.

“It's all right, child. I know you're weary. Meeting the king does that to everyone,” Gaius said kindly, reaching to the foot of the cot to draw one of the blankets up around her shoulders. “You said nothing to them?” He asked. 

Mirin nodded, closing her eyes. 

Gaius smiled in approval. “Good girl,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over her. As he did, he got a good look at the silver belt clasp. Gwen was right and partially wrong. It was a snail shell, but it wasn't just any snail. 

He settled the blanket around her neck, patted her shoulder and rose. “You just rest. I'll wake you when supper is ready.”

He wandered back to where he had been working, but instead of going back to it, he began to think long and hard.

That wasn't a garden variety of snail shell patterned in silver on the buckle. It was the shell of a whelk.


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

“Ah, Gaius,” Uther's voice stopped the old physician in his tracks as he was walking along one of the balcony tiers. The king, walking casually and betraying nothing more than amiable friendship, drew up nearer to him.

Gaius turned, raising an eyebrow at the king, as he clasped his hands in front of him. Uther joined him, and Gaius bowed his head. “Sire? Anything troubling you?”

“No, no, shoulder's been doing well,” Uther replied conversationally, reaching up subconsciously to probe the old battle wound in his shoulder. “Though I dare say the change in the weather coming soon will do its worst.”

“Yes,” Gaius smiled as they began strolling along the walkway. “Summer is definitively coming to an end, if my old bones have any say in the matter.” 

Both men smirked in mutual recognition of their shared aches and pains, and Gaius asked, “Was there anything I could do for you?”

“Actually yes,” Uther replied. “The girl, Mirin, isn't it? I understand she's been lodging with you?”

“For the time being, yes, she has been.”

“I've seen her with Guinevere today, taking her on a tour of the castle grounds. Have you learned anything more?”

Gaius frowned, shaking his head. “Sadly no, your Highness.” He sighed. “She's a most perplexing little puzzle. I was coming back from having a talk with Geoffrey, trying to see where she may be from. She's only managed to convey that she comes from a place she calls High Sea.”

“She spoke?” Uther looked askance at the physician. “Isn't she a mute?”

“For the most part, yes, she is a mute. If one were to be technical, I would describe her as a monoglot. She seems utterly unable to speak our language and is quite illiterate. What little she has said is what I've managed to figure out from some of my linguistic books. It's a form of Celtic, or even Old Irish, I think. Whatever it is, she's a very long way from home, this girl.” 

Uther sighed, “And I suppose no one in Camelot could translate for her?”

Gaius shook his head, “There isn't a soul I know of who comes even close to speaking such a language here.”

“I thought maybe the girl might know something about Morgana,” Uther pondered.

“I highly doubt that she would, Sire.” Gaius said sympathetically. “I'm nearly convinced the girl was a slave left to die. Her illness was quite a difficult case to treat. I think it rather a good thing now that she made it as far as she did.”

Uther smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “Despite intruding on the castle grounds.”

Gaius only smiled. “An intrusion not entirely of her own making. She was dying...”

“You say that with some hesitation,” Uther replied.

“Just old suppositions, my lord.” Gaius said. “Mirin is not well. This illness of hers took a great toll on her, and there seems to be something underlying it all. There's a spark of life missing from her. Something I cannot quite describe.”

Uther looked at him, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. Gaius just waved a gloved hand at him. “Just the ruminations of an old doctor on the human psyche, sire. Some patients after a prolonged illness bounce straight back into being themselves. Others often find themselves depressed, having their natural activities curtailed. Then there are those who lose something of themselves from such an illness, and they never quite recover.”

“And you're thinking this girl is one of those?” 

Gaius nodded. “Sadly, yes.”

“Could there be anything else?” Uther asked pointedly 

Gaius had seen the question coming, and he sighed. “There is nothing else. Nothing of a magical nature whatsoever. I would have known it.”

Uther looked him over, appraising his response, and then he continued, “You say she mentioned a place called High Sea?” 

“Yes. Between Geoffrey and I, we believe it's quite likely to be a place in Odin's realm or even further to the southwest. Maybe even the Isle of Mora or beyond. A coastal region in any case.”

“A very long way from home,” Uther said quietly. He remained silent a moment, thinking hard. “Do you intend to let her remain with you or find some other place for her?”

“She's not finished recovering from the pneumonia, so she can remain with us.” Gaius replied. “Gwen has offered to take her in with her and I think between the two of us we can find her a place to work. What becomes of her after that is anyone's guess.” His brow furrowed in thought. “Have you something in mind, Sire?”

“Who? Me?” Uther shook himself from his thoughts then chuckled. “What could I possibly want with a discarded slave? And one who can't talk?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Gaius replied airily, “Mute servants can prove to be invaluable to royal households.”

“Maybe you could tell Merlin that,” Uther shot back. 

Gaius smiled in return. “You appointed him.”

Uther shook his head, “Yes, yes and there are days when I wonder if I had lost my mind, but the boy's proven himself loyal, if anything.”

A hint of pride graced Gaius' smile as he glanced at the king. They were nearing the end of the balcony tier. “Do you need me for anything more?”

“No, no, you can go on about your work. If you happen to learn anything more about this girl, I would be interested in knowing it. Perhaps you could find something out about Morgana if it's possible?”

“Of course, Uther,” Gaius replied. “I know you're worried where Morgana is concerned and you know that if I can find out any information I would bring it to your attention as soon as I could.”

Uther looked him over for a moment and then nodded his head in acquiescence before entering the castle and walking away. 

Gaius watched him go, and once the king was out of sight, he heaved a sigh and ran his hand down his face. As he turned for the stairwell leading down, relief coursed through his veins. It was bad enough to have a king curious about a newcomer in his citadel. It was worse when you had to lie and hide information about that stranger from that same king. Especially one who had implemented such heinous laws as he had.

Gaius was approaching his chambers, trying to dispel the morose thoughts about Uther's laws, when he heard the sound of rushing feet coming up the stairways from the lower part of the tower.

Guinevere, hands clenched in the fabric of her dress, was hurrying up the steps.

“Gwen?” Gaius asked as she spotted him. There was a look of frantic desperation all over her features.

“Have you seen her, Gaius? Have you seen Mirin?” she blurted out in haste.

“Seen her?” Gaius 's eyes widened in alarm. “Not since the two of you left this morning. What is it Gwen? What's happened?”

“I can't find her! I've looked everywhere, I thought she might have come back here. I've been retracing all our steps today, but she's vanished!”

“When?” Gaius asked as he pushed open his door. Gwen hurried inside.

“Mirin?” she called out, rushing to the screens that made up Mirin's tiny room. All it revealed was an empty cot. She turned as Gaius entered his chambers. “Are you sure you haven't seen her?”

“I've only just returned home, Gwen. Where were you when you discovered her missing?”

“Near the northern servants quarters, I needed to return some clothes I had mended. Oh, Gaius! What if she's gotten lost?”

“Just take a breath, Gwen,” Gaius said calmly, “and retrace your steps exactly. Where did you go when you left here this morning?”

“The gardens, like you suggested. We went to the gardens; then I showed her around to some of the castle rooms. She looked interested enough. I showed her where the main working rooms were... the kitchens, the laundry, the stables. I've gone back to all those places, and I still can't find her!”

“You've mentioned that she was interested in the castle itself. Was there anywhere she was particularly interested in?”

Gwen, wringing her hands, paused for a long moment, racking her brain trying to remember. “Nowhere, Gaius. There was no place. She just tagged around behind me as always... wait,” Gwen paused, and a look of realization hit her eyes.

“Wait for?” Gaius asked. 

“We were passing the entrance to the vaults, and she pointed at them. I told her that there was nothing down there to see and she seemed quite satisfied with that. You don't think she could have gone down there, could you?”

“Do you think she could have?”

“No...” Gwen shook her head. “No, I kept her to the working areas, the Square and the lower balconies. She couldn't have gone down there.” She looked imploringly at Gaius. “She could get hopelessly lost down there if she did go there.”

“Let's not borrow trouble, Guinevere,” Gaius said. “You go back and search the gardens. That area can be a maze at times. I'll go and see if Merlin can check down in the vaults. He knows the castle pretty well. And I'll see what I can do. Don't fret, Gwen; she'll turn up somewhere. I'm sure she may have just gotten lost. She'll turn up by suppertime. She knows how to find her way back here at any rate.”

“I hope you're right,” Gwen said as she headed for the door.

“I'm certain of it.” Gaius said reassuringly, following Gwen to the door. Yet deep down a familiar twist of anxiety unsettled his stomach. 

Gwen immediately hurried off back to the gardens while Gaius turned and headed for the royal armoury.

Merlin was there, perched alone at a table, diligently polishing Arthur's gorget. Several other pieces of armour, polished to within an inch of their life, were set to one side and waited to be put away. He looked up when he heard footsteps approaching the room. He smiled at the sight of Gaius until he saw the look on his face

“Gaius?” he asked.

“Sorry to disturb your work, Merlin, but we have something of an issue going on.” Gaius paused at the table. “Does Arthur need you for anything else today?”

“No, he's finished abusing and trouncing his knight trainees. Better them than me, I say.” Merlin smiled and set the rag he was using down, inspecting the gorget for anything remotely looking tarnished. “I think he plans on heading out for a ride with the king later. What is it? What's going on?”

“Mirin has gone missing, and I have a dreadful feeling she may have gone down into the catacombs,” Gaius said.

Merlin looked sharply at him. '”The catacombs?” he asked. “Why would she want to go there?” Even he didn't care for the catacombs and their myriad vaults. The burial vault held a few too many unpleasant memories. The vault of magical artefacts left him feeling nauseous, and the water vault reminded him all too much of the afanc he had had to destroy down there. Not to mention the dungeons where he had spent a few too many visits, and then there was Kilgharrah's former prison...

“I've no idea why she would want to, I'm only going on a gut feeling here, Merlin, but could you go down and see?”

“Of course,” Merlin replied, despite his own misgivings, seeing the concern all over his mentor's face. “Just let me get these things put up.” As he began to put Arthur's armour away, he asked, “Where do you think she could have gone down there?”

“I really don't know, my boy,” Gaius replied distantly. “I have wondered since the night the girl showed up in my chambers what brought her to Camelot in the first place. Now that she's up and able, I think she is about to tell us that herself.”

“In the vaults?” Merlin looked over at him. 

“Where else? She's shown no interest in anything at all except this castle. Gwen was showing her around today and said the only place she actually wanted to go into was the northern vault entrance.”

“That's the one nearest the water supply,” Merlin remarked.

“Which could mean anything or nothing at all,” Gaius replied cryptically. “At any rate I'd like her to be found before any guards find her.”

“Don't worry, Gaius. I'll go and look for her,” Merlin said.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Gaius said. “I know how you get after a trip down there.”

“Good, then you can have something wet, hot, and strong waiting for me when I get back.” Merlin grinned at him as he set the last piece of armour in place. Gaius just smirked at him and left.

It was true enough. His particular magic abilities were so different from even 'normal' sorcerers that sometimes being in the presence of magical artifacts often left him with headaches and nausea. His first years in Camelot had taught him how to control that effect, but there where times when it was strong enough to override even his safeguards. Still, any trip into the catacombs beneath the castle could be unpleasant. There was only one advantage to the place.

He could freely practice there.

Merlin briefly looked around to ensure that no one was there to see him, and hefting an unlit torch, he entered the northern vault. The main entry leading down into the maze of tunnels was lit well enough and furnished for the guards. He paused at a stairway, wondering what particular tactic he would use to distract them long enough to get past them into the tunnels. His lips twitched into a wry smirk. He'd come up with so many diversions that he could pick and choose whichever one he wanted and they always worked.

Merlin's latest tactic worked again as the two guards on duty were summarily distracted. He slipped quietly past them and disappeared into the tunnels. When he was far enough away, he hefted the torch. 

“Bryne,” he barely whispered to it.

It never ceased to fascinate him --how fire could appear from nowhere and light up his torch. Holding it before him, he immediately headed in the direction of the water supply, listening intently for any sound out of the ordinary.

It was slow tedious work, and Merlin continued to feel a growing sense of frustration. He had been racking his brain trying to come up with some sort of spell that would help set him off on the right track in search of Mirin. He had nothing of hers at hand that might have aided in such a spell, and he literally had to resort to searching every nook and cranny. Nothing. With reluctance, he even headed down to where Kilgharrah had once been kept, but the enormous caves were devoid of the great dragon's presence, and he certainly couldn't sense the presence of another creature, much less a human being.

With even more reluctance, he went to the tunnels where Freya had hidden when she had escaped her captor so long ago now, but there was no sign or sight of Mirin. He was running out of options and the only two places left filled him with a growing dread. 

“Why does it always have to be the burial or relic vaults?” he muttered to himself trudging his way through the tunnels. “She's a bare wisp and weak as a kitten still. What would bring her there? If she's even there?”

The burial vault was nearest him, and he sombrely entered the main chamber. Row upon row of sarcophagi stretched out before him, and Merlin didn't relish the idea of having to search the place or even having to explain to anyone why he was down there in the first place. His eyes shifted to Tristan du Bois' rebuilt tomb, and he shuddered at the remembered horror of having to deal with that particular individual.

Even so, for Gaius sake, he searched the vault and found nothing.

Which left only one other place to look, and he dreaded the implications that held.

He began making his way through the underground corridors that lead to the vaults holding those things that Uther had declared illegal, dangerous, and quite possibly punishable by death, should anyone be seen with them. The vault was fortified by a steel gate, and he knew only Arthur kept the keys.

Nobody could get in there.

As he approached the gate, he could see it was still intact and that nothing past it had been disturbed. The presence of life -at least any human life- was completely gone and he heaved a sigh of relief. Even with his abilities, he wasn't going to force the lock and check inside. 

Hefting his torch he began heading back up to the surface level of the catacombs, hoping that Gaius and Gwen had found Mirin elsewhere. He hadn't even gone more that forty paces when his ears caught a strange sound. He paused, listening intently. There was a sound coming from up ahead, an odd muffled thumping in a very slow but steady pace. Frowning, Merlin cautiously moved forwards, beginning to sense the presence of another person.

As the light revealed the corridor ahead of him, he wasn't entirely surprised when it picked out the huddle form of Mirin collapsed against the tunnel wall, her dishevelled black curls hiding her face. What got his attention was the steady pounding of her head against the wall itself.

“Mirin?” He slowly approached her, afraid she might react in fear.

She didn't even notice him, just continuing to knock her head into the wall. A pang of compassion twisted Merlin's stomach as he searched around for a place to set the torch. Finding a niche, he turned to Mirin and frowned in dismay as he knelt before her.

“Hey, hey, hey...” he murmured, reaching up to stop her from hitting her head against the wall. He could see blood streaking down the side of her face. He reached up, holding her head in his hands and stared for a moment.

Tears had stained her face, and a mixture of dirt and rust coated her skin. She tried again to hit her against the wall, not even registering that Merlin was in front of her, or that he was even touching her. More dirt and rust covered her sleeves and the front of her dress. Glancing at her hands, loosely held in her lap, he could see a mixture of dirt, rust and blood where she had been gripping something so long and hard that she had left raw stripes down her hands.

Merlin closed his eyes. “Of course, the vault bars...” he whispered. He reached up and tugged his neckerchief off, setting the cloth against the matting blood and hair where she had been hitting the wall. He lifted her chin up, forcing her attention on him.

“Mirin...” He pleaded. “What is it? What do you want?” 

She began to struggle with a fresh round of tears. “Nearuþearf hámsíðan.” 

“We know you want to go home, Mirin, but how can we get you there when you can't or won't tell us?”

She tried to resume beating her head into the corridor wall. 

“No, no, no...” Merlin forced her head away, holding the neckerchief where she had cut her scalp open, and he searched her miserable eyes. He came to a decision. Shifting his weight, Merlin first settled her head on his shoulder, keeping the neckerchief in place, then he scooped her up and rose.

With his arms full, he stared a moment at his only source of light, and grimaced. It had to be done. Stepping past the wall sconce holding his torch, he turned and looked steadily at the flame.

“Forþforgian mec,” he whispered, and the flare of magic coalesced briefly in his eyes.

Like a small will o' the wisp, the flame detached itself from the torch, and Mirin never moved or shifted. She seemed utterly drained. Merlin heaved a sigh and set forth, acutely aware that a detached flame was following him through the cavern tunnels, and he fervently hoped no one was around for him to deal with. He was having a time of it already with the burden he was carrying in his arms.

What could this girl ever want in the vault of the relics?


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Gaius returned home to find Merlin pacing the chamber, running his hand through his scruffy, dark hair.

“Anything?” he instantly asked as Merlin turned to face him. Merlin only nodded at the screen. Gaius frowned, realizing that Merlin had shed his jacket and neckerchief and that his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows. He looked around the screen.

Mirin slept on her cot. Fresh bandages adorned her hands and a damp cloth, neatly folded, rested on her head. 

Gaius looked sharply at Merlin. “What happened?” He immediately began checking the girl over.

“I don't know, Gaius. I've no idea.” Merlin shook his head, resuming his pacing.

“Good grief!” Gaius had pulled the cloth from her head. 

“She was beating her head into a wall. Just sitting there. Pounding her head into the wall.” Merlin's voice was tinged with frustration.

“Where'd you find her?”

“In the tunnels.”

“ _Where_ exactly in the tunnels?” Gaius asked caustically, searching the nearby table for something to begin further cleaning her head wound. Merlin had been trying to get the clotted blood in her hair to soften. 

“The relics chamber. The magical relics chamber.” Merlin replied.

Gaius froze, consternation and a ghost of sorrow briefly flashing across his face. He drew in a deep, locating a fresh cloth and took over for Merlin. “Her hands?” he asked.

“She rubbed them raw on the bars of the gate trying to get past them,” Merlin said coming around to stand behind Gaius. “How could she even get that far down there with no light? It's pitch dark in those tunnels, yet she made it to that vault and was trying to get into it.”

“I don't know, Merlin!” Gaius snapped, then he stopped and drew in a deep breath. With a sigh the old healer said in a softer, calmer voice, “Help me with this, Merlin. You've done a good job with her hands. Let's finish it up. Did she say anything?” Gaius pulled a stool closer to the cot and sat down.

“Only that she wants to go home. The only thing she's ever really said,” Merlin sighed in despair. “What can I get you?”

“This can't be stitched --it's too ragged-- and since it isn't deep, we'll just clean it up, get me some linens. What was she doing again to cause this?”

“Beating her head into the wall. Deliberately. Repetitively. I had to hold her head away to get her to stop. She didn't even notice my presence or that I was even holding her head in my hands until I forced her to make eye contact,” Merlin rambled, searching around for bandages.

As Gaius began to tend the wound, Mirin's eyes fluttered, and a mewl of pain escaped her lips.

“Merlin come around and hold her head still while I treat this,” Gaius said, catching Mirin's hand before she could push him away. He gently tipped her head to one side but not before getting her attention.

“Mirin, this is going to sting, but you must hold still, do you understand me?” he asked firmly. She kept trying to push him away, her face scrunching with pain and a new round of tears. Gaius gripped her wrists. He looked pointedly at Merlin.

Merlin reached across to take her wrists in one hand and held her head to one side with the other. Easily switching languages, he began telling Mirin to hold still in a gentle but firm tone. At first Mirin struggled as Gaius began cleaning the wound on her head. Merlin, in a steady murmur of the Old Tongue, urged her to keep still, that she would be all right, and that it would be over soon.

Mirin had never struggled against them as much as she tried to that night. Finally spent, she lay still, tears trailing down her cheeks as Gaius finished cleaning the scalp wound. He finally set a warm, damp cloth on the wound and gently patted her shoulder.

“It's all done, child,” he said softly, setting his things aside. “Merlin, do you mind finishing up?” he asked as he stiffly rose from the stool. Merlin barely nodded, still murmuring to Mirin, and reached down to grab the blanket at the foot of the cot. 

It was Gaius' turn to begin pacing the chamber floor, and moments later Merlin came around the screen, seeing the look of consternation on the old physician's face.

“Gaius, what aren't you telling me?” he asked flatly. 

Gaius glanced at him and shook his head. “Nothing, Merlin, I know nothing. I have no facts, no concrete evidence other than what we already know.” He shook his head. “I won't jump to conclusions without any proof.”

“But you have figured out something, I can see it on your face. What have you figured out?”

“All I have figured out is that we have a desperately homesick girl who seems to be losing all hope of ever getting home. Hence the self-inflicted wounds.”

“Nooo....” Merlin responded, waving a finger at him. “You've figured out more than that. Why would she want to get into the relics vault? What could she possibly want in there?”

Gaius scowled at him, shaking his head. “Maybe we are looking at this all wrong,” he rambled.   
“Maybe she is being compelled by someone or something else to get into the vault for something. Could it not be that if she can get this item, she would get to return home?”

Merlin shook his head, “No, there's something more at play here and you know something about it. What is it?”

“I won't jump to conclusions!” Gaius snapped.

“Gaius,” Merlin looked at him severely, “Is she dangerous?”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Merlin!” Gaius replied caustically. “She's still weak from the pneumonia. Of course, she's not dangerous! You've been living here with her all this time. What do you think?”

“That you're not telling me everything you suspect?” 

Gaius stopped in his tracks and just turned his full intimidating glare on Merlin. Merlin instantly raised his hands in defeat.

“All right, as long as you're sure she isn't a threat. That still doesn't answer what she could possibly want in that vault.”

“I only know one thing for certain,” Gaius scowled and resumed his pacing. “She cannot be allowed to go back down there.”

“Well, yeah, that much is apparent, but how are we supposed to stop her?”

“If worse comes to worst, let the guards catch her trying to get down there and see how she likes spending a night or two in the dungeons? Or maybe the stocks? All we can do is forbid her from trying it again,” Gaius tartly replied.

“But then Arthur, or worse Uther, finds out about it, and what becomes of that?” Merlin shot back.

“We simply have to get her out of Camelot then,” Gaius said softly. 

“Oh, sure, pack her up and leave. And where are we supposed to take her?” Merlin asked.

“South, towards the Isle of Mora,” Gaius grumbled, “Beyond Camelot, anyway, and preferably near the Sea.”

Merlin stared at him for a moment, “Are you serious?” he blurted out. “You're talking Odin's realm, and if you haven't forgotten every time we've ever had to deal with him, he's tried to kill Arthur.”

Gaius shot a glare at Merlin, “What would Arthur have to do about this anyway?” He snapped. Then he turned to a nearby table and snatched up a book.

“You ask me if I'm serious?” he asked rhetorically, “Look at this here.” He flipped the book open and dropped it into Merlin's hands. “Mirin cannot read, but she was looking through it the first night she was able to stay awake. It's an illustrated book on the coastal villages along Camelot's western border.” He turned and picked up another. “A naturalist's drawings on vegetation in and around coastal waters.” He snatched up a third and held it up. “Illustrated book on coastal birds.” He added it to the top of the one Merlin already had. He grabbed another, “This is a book, full of sketches, on creatures from the southern coasts. It made her cry.” The book got dropped onto the stack that Merlin was now juggling. 

Gaius picked up a few more. “More of my books, all focusing on coastal life.” He dropped them onto Merlin's pile. Merlin staggered, trying to hold onto them all. “You haven't been around the girl as much as I have, Merlin. You've had your own duties and responsibilities to tend to, but I have had plenty of time to observe her, and I am telling you this girl comes from a coastal village or town. She is dying of homesickness.”

“Dying of homesickness?” Merlin exclaimed. “Is that even possible?” He dumped the load of books he had onto another table.

Gaius just looked at him with a disgusted smirk and looked pointedly at Mirin's screen.

“This doesn't make any sense though, Gaius.” Merlin shook his head, “Why doesn't she head south for the coast? Why head here, and why seek out the relics vault?”

“That is what I don't know, Merlin.” Gaius said with a sigh. “I can't explain it. I just know that that girl is slowly dying. It may not be in a physical sense, yet. But here...” Gaius tapped his temple, “She is dying. Apathy as deeply entrenched as hers will drain the life out of anyone. She needs to be returned home if she is ever going to make a full recovery.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Merlin asked. 

Gaius heaved a sigh, reaching up to rub his forehead. “I don't know yet, Merlin, but we must do something. She's been in my care now since she came into this chamber, and I will not stand by and watch her die, not while she is my responsibility.”

Merlin gazed at Gaius for a long moment. He could hear the very essence of the old physician's purpose in his life ringing through his words. Gaius was a healer in every sense of the word and it extended not just to the physical aspects but also to the mental aspects. When Gaius took a patient under his care, that patient remained under his care until they were better, had left, or were dead. One way or the other.

Merlin also knew the enormous load of guilt and regret the old physician carried on his shoulders from his long time association with Camelot, even more so from his association with the Pendragon household. Gaius would do whatever he could for his patients so long as he was able.

Merlin turned, looking around for his jacket and scarf, which he found carelessly draped on a stool.

A puzzled expression settled on Gaius' face as Merlin snagged up his neckerchief. “Where are you going?” 

“Someone needs to tell Gwen that Mirin's been found. She's probably wrung her hands off by now with worry.” He tugged the neckerchief over his head, swinging it into place.

Gaius heaved a sigh, reaching up to rub a hand across the back of his neck. “Yes, of course,” he murmured turning to stare at the clutter of his chambers. “Merlin?” he said as Merlin tugged his jacket on and began heading for the door.

Merlin paused, looking back at him curiously.

“Merlin, if anything should happen from here on out, don't do anything rash.”

“What could happen? You said she's harmless.”

“She is, Merlin, but caution is the better part of valour. I only want you to be careful. Don't do anything to jeopardize yourself or Mirin, all right?”

Merlin looked at him a little perplexed but then acquiesced, “All right. Don't wait up for me, I may be a while.” Merlin saw Gaius nod his understanding before he headed out.

Gaius, with a resigned look on his face, slowly sat down at his favourite table as the door closed behind Merlin. He had no idea at first long he sat there in a brown study, brooding over his thoughts, when there came a knocking on his door.

He shook himself out of his reverie when the door opened and Arthur poked his head around the door.

“Arthur?” Gaius asked as the prince entered the room. He rose to his feet, a little perplexed at the loss of time. It had been some hours now since Merlin had gone.

“Am I disturbing anything?”

“Not at all,” Gaius replied, looking curiously at Arthur. “I'm afraid if you are looking for Merlin, he's stepped out for the night. He went to deliver a message to Guinevere, I believe.”

“Actually, I came looking for you.” Arthur said.

“Me? What can I do for you? You aren't...?”

“No, I'm fine!” Arthur waved him off. “Father sent me. We have some dignitaries visiting from Tregor. They are dealing with an issue of a magical nature, and Father believes some of the answers may be found in the tomes in the relics vault. He was wondering if you could look them up for him?”

A look of understanding crossed Gaius's face. “Ah, of course. I take it you have the keys?”

“Yes. Can you come?”

“Yes, a moment though?” Gaius, poked his head around Mirin's screen and was satisfied to find that she was indeed asleep. 

“Will she be all right on her own?” Arthur nodded at the screen as Gaius joined him by the door.

“Yes, she's quite asleep. Shall we go?”

Gaius didn't pay any attention to the time as Arthur guided him into the tunnels leading to the relics chamber. The prince carried a torch for them, lighting others set into their niches along the way. 

The answers Uther sought for his guests lay in the old books of magic long since locked away from anyone capable of using them. It was an interesting coincidence, the old physician thought, as Arthur unlocked the vault doors, that they needed to come into the chambers at such a time. Still, it afforded him a little time to surreptitiously glance about to see what it could possibly be that a girl like Mirin could be looking for. He was sadly disappointed in his search.

He located the books in question, searching for answers from a list of questions Arthur had carried with him, and after some time, their task was completed. When they left the chamber, Gaius waited for the prince patiently as he ensured the gate was closed and locked. Gaius gave them one last look satisfied they were secured and followed Arthur out.

Emerging briefly in the Square, he was surprised to see it had grown quite dark out, and very few people were about. Arthur thanked him for his help and parted from there while Gaius turned and headed for the south tower. He wasn't half way across the square when one of the orphanage children ran up to him with an urgent message. With a sigh, Gaius led the child to his chambers, where he quickly gathered together those items he needed into his apothecary bag, looked in one more time at Mirin, and departed.

The sick child he had been treating at the children's home had indeed taken a turn for the worse, not an entirely unexpected outcome, concerning the diagnosis the child had. Still, he had helped the caretaker make the child comfortable, and much later on he returned to his quarters. Gaius was half afraid that when he returned he would find Mirin gone, but when he looked around the screen, she was still asleep, having barely moved. He let out a relieved sigh, realizing how weary he had become from that night's events and he decided not to wait up for Merlin, who had not returned.

He settled in for sleep and before too long he was snoring contently.

It was then that Mirin woke up.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Merlin, true to his word, delivered his message to Gwen, causing her instant relief and he spent a little time at her home, reassuring her everything was all right and that she really was not to blame for Mirin's disappearing act. After leaving t her, he had intended to go to the castle library but when his thoughts, in a rarity, turned to brooding, he decided to walk instead. The guards were familiar enough with him, being Arthur's servant, that they took no notice as he wandered about the old parts of town, watching as the city prepared to close itself down for the night. Having no curfew in place afforded Merlin the time to just wander about trying to settle his thoughts.

It was rather late, therefore, when he decided it was time to return home.

Entering the Square, he turned for the south tower when he spotted something small and dark dashing into the shadows from the tower door way.

“Oh great...” he murmured to himself, knowing instantly who it was. He heaved a sigh and was about to call her out when he hesitated. 

A lot of what was on his mind had to do with what it could be that Gaius had figured out about their strange guest, so with a healthy dose of apprehension, Merlin decided to tag along after her, his curiosity now piqued as to what this girl could possibly want.

A game of cat and mouse began. Mirin had no clue she was being followed and Merlin carefully, and equally silent, trailed along after her. He already knew she would head for the labyrinth of tunnels under Camelot. He was impressed with her ability to simply blend into the shadows and avoid being seen, obviously having had to do such a thing many times before.

There came a long wait when she encountered guards at the entrance to the tunnels. Merlin watched, sorely tempted to distract the pair himself just to see what Mirin would do. Then her opportunity came to gain her entrance.

Merlin nearly groaned out loud when the pair of guards, in a great violation of their duties, both went together for a moments respite. Mirin was out of her hiding place in a flash, dashing down the corridor, as the two guards momentarily turned their backs. Merlin rolled his eyes, waited a few moments for Mirin to get ahead of him, and then he, too, followed after her, whilst plotting a way to 'remind' the guards on duty that they needed to keep vigilance to protect their King and their Prince.

Much to his surprise, Merlin realized that someone had been in the tunnels before them, the torches had been lit and were still burning. He wondered for a moment who would have left them behind as he could sense no one else down there but Mirin. Strange, that they would leave the torch's alight.

He trailed along after her and stayed well back when she reached the locked vault gates.

She walked straight up to them, grabbed the bars with her bandaged hands, and pulled, only to find them stubbornly locked into place. A cry of frustration escaped her lips, and she jerked on the bars, rattling them. She tried every which way she could, pulling at each bar, shaking them, grabbing the great lock itself, and trying to pull on it. Everything was to no avail. Persistently she kept at it, wordless cries of frustration escaping from her like a trapped animal. Thus, the frustration bubbled over into crying as she continuously pulled and jerked at the iron bars of the gate, paying no heed to the effect it was having on her hands.

Merlin, at first, was annoyed, watching her repetitive and vain attempts at trying to get into the vault, but soon that began to change. There was something heartbreaking in her efforts. She kept trying, even when blood began to seep through the now dirty linens wrapped around her hands, yet still she kept trying to get past the bars. It was only when, some time later, she slid down the bars to her knees. She was spent from the efforts and began weeping in earnest, beating at a bar with her other hand.

In Merlin's ears it sounded too much like the cry of a cut off, wild creature and he found himself feeling a great deal of sympathy to the broken, dejected girl before him. Freya once again drifted into his thoughts and all the pain and hurt and despair the two had faced together in their very short time together resurfaced. 

Merlin acted without thinking, “Aliese,” he whispered, staring straight at the lock of the gate.

Both heard the metallic click as the lock's inner mechanism triggered at the magic Merlin cast towards it.

Mirin's head instantly snapped up, looking at the great lock through her tears. A puzzled frown appeared on her weary, tear-stained face, and she paused with indecision. Pulling her arm free from the bars, she stood up, and after looking suspiciously at the gate, she reached up and pulled on it.

She stood there frozen with surprise as the gate swung open with a squeal of un-oiled metal. Disbelief still on her face, she stared at the opening before her and then hurried inside.

Swallowing his misgivings and the beginning of that dreadful sensation of being too near certain magical objects, Merlin immediately followed after her.

There was something there, something else, something at the periphery of his senses, as he shut down his acute reaction to the things located in that vault. Mirin seemed to know exactly where to go, she unerringly wove her way around objects of incredible wealth and power, ignoring them all as she made her way through the vault. If he wasn't puzzled already, he certainly became unsure now as she continually passed up items whose value was beyond priceless. 

What she eventually came too left him even more confused.

Towards the back of the vault, newer items had been placed, the only place left available to those things Uther had banned. Mirin came up to a storage shelf and stopped, looking up in dismay.

As silently as possible Merlin made his way closer to where Mirin had come to a stop. She was eyeing one of the upper shelves, holding a myriad collection of strange items. His brows knit together as he looked the objects over. Most all of them had some sort of magical connotation, and the amount of power in them was minimal, if it existed at all. Merlin knew some of the items in that room where simply there out of sheer rumour, but what Mirin was apparently after held nothing of any real value. 

He watched as she tried several leaps, stretching her arm out as far as she could in an effort to reach the upper shelves. She huffed in irritation, waving away the dust that was being disturbed, and looked around for something to use to knock whatever it was she was looking for off the shelf. She tried several items, unsuccessfully using them to try and dislodge something sitting on the second highest of the shelves.

A snarl formed on the girl's face as she tossed aside a priceless artefact and she looked around, spotting something small that she could stand on. She lugged it over, scrambling on top of it and stretched up as far as she could reach, just missing the shelf in question. 

Merlin could just see what it was she was after. There was a linen wrapped package up there, tied with twine. At a loss to explain it, Merlin could only watch as she unsuccessfully tried to reach the object. She slapped at the shelf, letting out a groan of irritation, and looked back up. Stretching to her tiptoes, she reached up while she set her foot on the shelf nearest her, gripping the one above her with a bloody palm. With one last heave, she pushed herself up, grabbing for the package as the entire shelf shifted and her bloody grip slipped.

Down she came in a shower of loose items, landing hard on her back. Objects from the shelf pelted and buried her. Merlin had to look away a moment, the cloud of dust from her efforts nearly engulfing him. As he did, his peripheral sense of all things regarding power, tingling at the edges of his magic, abruptly changed.

He sucked in an involuntary gulp of air, suddenly feeling like someone had punched him in the stomach as a veritable tidal wave of raw, ancient magic threatened to spin him out of control into unconsciousness. He grabbed for the nearest object, trying to stay upright as he buried his face in the crook of his elbow, attempting to stop the sudden urge to cough from the dust still swirling up around him.

Fighting the dimming of his senses, he looked towards where Mirin lay. She was pushing items away from her, one arm clutching the linen package to her chest. She was utterly oblivious to the reopening of the wound on her head and blood was beginning to run down the side of her face.

But Merlin could only stare at her through the sudden wave of nausea and vertigo that was causing him to break out in a sweat. He fought against the new strange, source of magic, appalled at the rawness of it, at the exhilarated wildness that threatened to engulf him. His focus was wholly on Mirin as he fought the coughing. She was the source of the strange magic, and as she turned on her side, struggling to get to her feet, he got a look at her face.

Sheer joy, so powerful it left tears running down her cheeks, radiated from her features as she clutched the little parcel to her chest and scrambled upright. She tucked an elbow in, frowning slightly at a sudden hitch in her side, but the amount of elation she was feeling seemed to overcome any pain caused by the fall. She clutched the package like her very life depended on it. She bolted for the gate, dashing past Merlin, who remained unnoticed.

Merlin stumbled after her, not caring now if she knew he was there or not. He had to find out what was in that package that would create such an effect on Mirin and how she knew it was even in there. He still fought against the sensations the strange new magic was having on him and began coughing in earnest.

Frantic to stop her, he tried to get the gate closed, but she was past it and into the tunnels before he could even react instinctively. Merlin struggled against his muddied thoughts, trying to stifle his coughing and the vertigo threatening him. He staggered, barely catching himself from falling by the iron vault gate. He caught a glimpse of Mirin's back as she fled down a corridor. He went after her, slapping his hands into the wall to keep himself upright, as a new horror began creeping into his thoughts. 

What had he just unleashed?

Shaking his head and trying to clear his thoughts, he began running through the tunnels and came to an abrupt halt at an intersection. He knew these corridors well, and he knew he could cut Mirin off before she could reach the entry. He turned, snatching a torch from its sconce, and plunged headlong down a different path, regaining control of his spinning senses.

Moments later, he burst from the side tunnel into the main corridor and turned in the direction he knew Mirin would come, slowing himself down to a fast walk as he went forward to meet her. It was then that he heard sounds ahead of him that brought him up short. 

Someone was far up ahead and speaking, and that someone was Arthur...

“Silly of me, really,” the prince said, “I was just completely focused on getting the answers Father wanted and totally forgot I left the torches lit.”

As it registered in Merlin's brain that Arthur was down in the tunnels with him, Mirin suddenly appeared ahead of him. She literally slid to a stop, staring up at him in horror and possessively clutching the package to her chest. Merlin stopped in his tracks, dead in the centre of the tunnel, holding the torch in one hand and lifting up his other hand slowly in front of him. His stance had twisted, presenting as little of himself to her as possible.

“Mirin...” he warned calmly. 

It was then that Arthur saw the open gate of the relics vault.

Pandemonium erupted. 

Arthur's angry, demanding voice echoed down the tunnel. “Get the alarm out!” The command was followed almost immediately by the sound of booted running feet.

Merlin closed his eyes briefly in despair as Mirin, shaking her head, began backing away from him, not a word escaping her lips as she turned to run. 

He didn't dare say a word, wondering briefly how he would even explain his own presence in the tunnel when Mirin bolted for the way she had come. Merlin glanced at the torch in his hand. 

“Tódwæsce!” he hissed at it, and the torch immediately extinguished itself. The surrounding area around Merlin plunged back into darkness. Moving carefully, he went forward, staying close to the walls trying to see what would happen next.

Mirin, in her headlong rush to escape, quite literally ran into Arthur, hitting him hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards in surprise as she staggered back in the opposite direction. She stared up at him in mixture of shock and fright. He looked down at her in an equal amount of shock, but his eyes widened even further when he realized exactly who had been in the relics vault.

Cold, angry determination dropped across his features as he lunged forwards, making a grab for Mirirn's arm.

“And just where do you think you're going? ” he started to say as she wrenched the package protectively away from his reaching hand.

It was exactly the wrong move for Arthur to make.

Mirin hugged the linen package to her, curling down protectively over it and looked hard at Arthur. For a split second, her eyes turned brilliant gold.

An explosive clap, so strong that the very air shook around them, smashed Arthur and Merlin flat against the walls. Great cracks rent the stone, and closer to the actual source of the repelling blow, rocks, dirt and dust began falling from the ceiling, raining down relentlessly on an unconscious Arthur. Mirin appeared unharmed and began scrambling away.

Merlin shook his head, groggily pushing himself up off the floor when Mirin dashed past him. He made an awkward grab for her, missed, and collapsed back down for a moment before realizing who was closer to the source of a magical blast.

“Arthur?” he gasped, beginning to cough at the latest round of dust being gulped into his lungs. He forced himself up, reaching a shaky hand to his head. He'd been hurled backwards by magic spells before, but a blast of this magnitude was far from just a simple 'get back' spell. The tingle of that strange, ancient and wild magic ran through every nerve of his body as he stumbled down the corridor, where he could see Arthur laying on his back up against the wall. 

Dirt and pebbles were still pouring from the cracks in the ceiling as Merlin almost fell at his side.

“No, no, no...” Merlin began to ramble, clawing the rocks and debris off of Arthur’s face. “What the hell have I done?” The prince's head rolled against Merlin's hand as he tried to see what he could in the diminished light of the tunnel. Arthur's torch had landed in the nearby rubble and had almost gone completely out. Merlin didn't even think, his magic unconsciously reigniting the flame. He looked back down at Arthur. The prince's face was coated in dirt, and blood was streaming from his nose. Horrified, Merlin reached down, his fingers instantly finding the carotid artery in his neck.

Nearly dropping again in relief, Merlin could feel the strong beat of Arthur's pulse under his fingers. He could see that the prince's nose was definitely broken, a tell-tale, blue-black mark already forming across the bridge of his nose. Merlin's hand slipped to his mouth as he stared at Arthur's face, his eyes beginning to pick out other bruising here and there. The horror of what he had unleashed had barely begun to sink in. Merlin shook himself, tilting his head to check Arthur's ears as he felt a lump beginning to form on the back of his head. 

Something of Gaius' constant teachings finally surfaced through the shock and guilt flooding Merlin's mind as he began checking Arthur over for possible broken bones. He shoved rocks off of him as he searched for wounds. He wasn't so sure regarding the ribs, Arthur wasn't wearing his hauberk, having been in some sort of meeting with dignitaries that evening. The rest of him seemed okay; he was just profoundly unconscious. and that nose was going to hurt like hell, especially once it was set. Merlin began to reach up, to set the bone back into place before Arthur could even feel it when he heard shouts of alarm from the vault corridor.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder in alarm. He simply could not be seen down here in the tunnels even with Arthur out cold. 

Conflicted, Merlin set Arthur's head back down and reluctantly got up. If he couldn't help Arthur at this stage, he could in another. He made sure that Arthur was at least reasonably clear of any further risk before turning in the direction Mirin had run off in. 

With one more reluctant glance at the unconscious prince, Merlin began running up the corridor.


	8. Chapter 8

8.

The jarring alone from that first blast of magic wasn't even enough to wake up Gaius; it was the after-effects. Anything small and loose in his chambers began falling to the floor, breaking and rolling in a din loud enough to wake up the dead. Gaius jerked awake as the noise continued and he rolled over with a groan, his sleepy, befuddled mind trying to piece together just what was happening.

“Merlin?” he called out, turning for his bedside table, where a candle nub, almost completely burned out, was offering up a weak and feeble light. As the remaining objects fell to the floor, he began to get an idea that all was not right in Camelot. Finding another candle, he got it lit and rolled over, surveying what was happening inside his chambers and knowing full well that Merlin was not home.

For that matter, the chambers were curiously devoid of anyone save himself. As realization crept its way up his spine, Gaius found his slippers and rose from the bed. One look confirmed to him that Mirin was gone as well.

Lighting more candles to illuminate the havoc wreaked in his chambers, Gaius drew up sharply as the alarm bells began clanging throughout the citadel. Fearing the worst, Gaius carefully picked his way around the wreckage, found a proper set of clothes to put on, and then made his way to the door.

Out in the Square, guards were swarming around like ants from a disturbed nest, mingling with ordinary folks who had been jostled awake by what could only be described as an explosion, though a very strange, earth shaking one. In all the mayhem, Gaius seemed to be the only one who actually had a destination in mind.

He hadn't even made it towards the citadel proper, when Sir Leon, looking rumpled and haphazardly dressed, came rushing towards him.

“Gaius! Gaius, quickly, you're needed!” Leon, looking agitated besides the fact he had obviously been jostled out of his bed by the alarm, stopped just short of grabbing Gaius by his arm to haul him to where he needed him to be. “It's Arthur; he's been injured!”

“Where?!” Gaius demanded.

“Relics vault. Someone has broken into it. There's no telling what's been taken down there!” Leon plunged his way past guards, who instantly parted like waves upon seeing who it was and who was following.

“How serious?” Gaius managed to ask as Leon continued down towards the castle’s lower depths.

“We don't know yet. The guards who were with him found him once they recovered from whatever has hit us. I only had a passing glance, he was unconscious --looks like his nose is broken too-- and there is blood all over him.”

Gaius, nearly tripping in Leon's wake, suddenly drew up short, panting for breath and causing the knight to look at him in consternation. He leaned back against the wall, shooting a squinty-eyed glare of defiance at him, and before Leon could speak, Gaius cut him off in agitation.

“I'm perfectly capable of getting there, Leon, at my own speed. I am not as young as I used to be,” he said testily, “I need my apothecary's bag. It's back in my chambers. Send someone to get it and catch up with me.”

“I'll get it myself, but hurry, Gaius! We don't know how bad off he is...” Leon said, looking abashed as Gaius nodded his head. 

He waved Leon off with a gloved hand, “I'll get there; I know the way.” He pushed away from the wall, stumbling forward. Leon barely had time to give him a curt nod before he ran back up the way he had come.

Alone now, Gaius removed a torch from its sconce and continued heading towards the relics vault. He, also, was very familiar with the upper catacomb tunnels, and he made his way through several lesser-known shortcuts, some so old and abandoned that he found himself batting at veils of cobwebs and using the torch to burn away the larger ones.

Many of the main corridors had been smoothed over and finished for obvious functional purposes, but a great deal more of the lesser tunnels were simply narrow holes burrowed through the rocks and earth beneath Camelot. Many of those had offshoots that led to dead ends when the diggers encountered weaknesses that could bring down the tunnels. Some of them even had the support beams still in place from where they had been abandoned. Ignoring these, Gaius made his way as rapidly as he could, following an angular pathway downwards that led him towards the relics vault.

He was more than halfway there when his hearing began picking out sounds far ahead of him, sounds of someone running. He frowned, He was used to hearing guards running, their booted feet and hauberks making enough sound to raise the dead, but this --this was different. This someone was smaller, breathing hard and frantic. Gaius was making the connection that it was Mirin when, in the corridor ahead of him. she suddenly appeared from the gloom of a darkened tunnel behind her. Gaius slowed, peering ahead and lifting the torch higher.

“Mirin?” he called as she burst from the corridor and into the intersection that he was rapidly approaching. She slid to stop.

Like a frightened animal, she looked at him, clutching something to her chest. Gaius was horrified at the sight of her. Mirin was white as a sheet, her black hair in utter disarray, and blood not only smeared across her face and hands but had also dripped onto her shoulders from her head wound. Her eyes, so dark and black, had a look of sheer and utter desperation in them. A liberal coating of rust, dirt and webs all over her lent silent evidence that her flight through the tunnels was done in a panic, with no regard to herself.

The encounter lasted mere seconds as she glanced behind her, looked back at him and switched directions, plunging down a smaller tunnel in an effort to get away. 

“Mirin!” Gaius called out, unaware as yet that Merlin was rapidly approaching.

Hearing the voice of his mentor calling out, Merlin hesitated and listened to the sounds ahead of him. New urgency spurred him into a run and he darted down another side passage, knowing that Mirin was somehow aiming for an exit that led outside of the castle grounds. He had only one possibility of catching her before she could escape the tunnels, and that was only if he could reach the junction ahead of her. The realization that Gaius was in there with them --with no idea what it was they were facing-- lent him even more speed.

He burst out into the corridor blocking the way to the outside exit, waving a hand frantically in front of his face to escape from a tangle of cobwebs that he had run through. As he hurried forward to intercept Mirin in her flight, he looked at his hand, coated with the cobweb. These particular tunnels, being a long neglected entry system to the catacombs, had gathered more than their fair share of spiders over the year. Who knew how many generations of eight-legged weavers had lived and died in these tunnels?

As Merlin hurried ahead, running his hand down his shirt to get another cobweb off, Mirin appeared before him, followed closely by Gaius, who called out her name again. Seeing him rushing towards her, Mirin shifted directions, dashing down yet another smaller passageway, and Merlin realized, with a grim smile of triumph, that she was heading into a dead end. He dove in after her, hoping that he was between her and Gaius, not realizing that Gaius too knew the rabbit's warren of a system as well as himself.

As he viciously swatted away yet another batch of the irritating cobwebs, an idea suddenly occurred to him. He stared a second at the diaphanous veil of webbing stuck to his hand andf then looked down the tunnel at Mirin's slowly disappearing form. 

“Gewyndeu of lobban,” he called out, his hand shooting out in front of him, fingers spread wide, “Ælaþ, þiccaþ, tóbrædaþ!” 

No sooner had he given the command than his eyes flashed and the effect instantaneous...

The cobwebs ahead of them began spreading out of their own accord, thickening and growing, filling the tunnel ahead of Mirin. She ploughed through them, letting out a squeal of fright as the webs began entangling her arms and legs. The tunnel started looking like the lair of a nightmarishly huge spider as she tripped, still clutching the package to her chest and one arm flinging out to keep herself from falling. She careened off an old support beam, frantically clawing at the thickened webs, before tripping and falling to the floor. 

From an offshoot corridor, Gaius suddenly appeared at the junction of the tunnels, waving away the spreading webs as he looked around in confusion, first at Mirin, further getting entangled in the cobwebs, and then at Merlin, who was sliding to stop, a look of surprise on his face at Gaius' utterly unexpected appearance.

Behind the old physician -who now stood directly between Mirin and himself- Merlin could see Mirin, her one arm still wrapped around the package close to her chest, but her other arm was free and was lifting in a gesture he knew only too well...

Whatever effects the strange, raw, wild magic had been having on Merlin had become muted as his own formidable powers adapted. Still he could feel that peculiar magic gathering, centred completely around the small form of Mirin, who was now looking up at the ceiling.

Gaius, realizing that Merlin was commanding the cobwebs, had begun to shout something when Mirin's eyes lit up and Merlin's face abruptly changed in horrified alarm.

“Gaius!” he shouted, his hand shooting out yet again, “NO!” 

Unconsciously Merlin's hand grabbed at air and then jerked back roughly, an instinctive gesture, that had an extraordinary outcome upon the person of Gaius. Yanked backwards towards Merlin, he was off his feet and falling as another explosive clap rocked and shook the catacombs under Camelot. 

The air reverberated around the confined space of the tunnel, instantaneously causing the old beams to collapse and the frail nature of the tunnel to crumble. Rocks and debris began pouring down at the tunnel's end, burying Mirin in its aftermath. At the same time, Gaius crashed to the floor and Merlin dove down, covering his head as an enormous cloud of dust, dirt and cobwebs engulfed them.

Chaos surrounded them , and it took several long minutes before Merlin was able to lift his head, coughing anew and peeling dirty cobwebs. Merlin shook his head, unable to hear a thing but the ringing in his ears from whatever the strange magic had produced. He groped around to one side, knowing Gaius was just ahead of him. His hand felt fabric and movement as the old man, also coughing, weakly waved an arm in the air before his face in a vain attempt to dispel the lingering dust.

The torches abruptly lit where they had fallen, reacting to Merlin's instincts as he pulled himself towards Gaius with his arms. The old physician, eyes screwed shut in pain, was coughing, shaking his head, and also trying to clear the ringing away. Merlin struggled to knees next to him, relief flooding through him when he saw that Gaius was alive and attempting to sit up. Helping him, Merlin began pulling the cobwebs off of the old physician.

As the dust settled, Merlin looked Gaius over, “Are you all right?” he asked worriedly, as Gaius coughed, a dreadful, body shaking occurrence, leaving the old man bent over, eyes still shut in pain. “Gaius?” Merlin pleaded, fear tainting his voice.

“What...” Gaius managed to get out, “What did you do?”

He didn't see the involuntary flinch from his ward in response to his question. He gripped Merlin's arm in one hand and gently patted his shoulder with the other, trying to reassure him as he fought to regain his senses. “I'm all right, son,” he managed to get out. “What happened?” He opened his eyes, looking at the worried Merlin, who was trying to dust him down and pull cobwebs out of the way. Struggling to stand up, Gaius let out an involuntary groan of pain.

“Are you sure you're all right?” Merlin asked. Gaius' hearing cleared, and he nodded his head, long white hair falling in front of his face. He batted it away in irritation.

“After that explosion? What did you do? There's going to be bruising from this!” he groaned out loud, his irascible retort causing Merlin flinch with guilt.

“It wasn't me, Gaius, I swear.” Merlin protested. “All I did was pull you out of the way.”

“Wasn't you?” Gaius looked sharply at him, “That was the second such occurrence tonight. You should see the effects at home! Everyone in the citadel is going to realize that these were of a magical nature, and you are the only one capable of producing something of this magnitude. What has happened?” Gaius demanded again.

This time he quickly honed in on the guilt flashing across Merlin's face. “Merlin!” he snapped.

“It wasn't me, Gaius!” he protested in defense. “All I did was nudge the cobwebs to grow a bit just trying to keep her from getting away, and then I just did what I had to do to protect you! But the explosions? That wasn't me!” He waved an arm in the direction of where Mirin had been.

“Then who was it? It certainly couldn't have been Mirin...” Gaius, irritable and beginning to feel the pain hit his bones, saw the look that crept into Merlin's eyes. Both turned and looked at the rubble pile where Mirin had last been seen. “It couldn't have been her. Even you said she has no magic.” Gaius protested.

“She had something Gaius... a package. She took it from the relics vault. Whatever is in that package gives her magic. Strange magic, old magic... “ Merlin shook his head, “I've never felt it before, it's sort of like Kilgharrah's, only wilder. I can't explain it.” He looked pleadingly at the old physician who was gently pushing past Merlin towards the mound of rocks and beams.

“How did she get into the relics vault in the first place?” Gaius asked, distractedly as he began pulling stones away.

Merlin didn't answer him.

“Help me with this; she might still be alive under there,” Gaius said.

“I don't think so...” Merlin said softly. Gaius paused, casting a glance back at him as he tugged away at a beam. Merlin was shaking his head again, “I can't feel it any more. That magic. It's gone again.”

“Merlin, until I see a body, I will not give up hope for life. Help me get this cleared away and find her. If anything, if there is something to that package, something that causes her to create the type of explosions that can bring down the walls, we have to find it and get it away from her.”

The tone in Gaius' voice broke through Merlin's reverie, and he came forward, grabbing the beam from Gaius and lugging it out of the way. They struggled to pull away the detritus when both encountered the small body under the rubble. Gaius was just reaching in to see if she was still alive when voices could be heard in the surrounding tunnels. At the same time, Merlin gently tugged the strange package out from under Mirin's still trapped body. He stared at it, perplexed. He could feel the linen wrap, the twine, and nothing else. Literally. There was nothing magic about the package.

“But...” he started to ask out loud, frowning in consternation, when the sound of Leon's voice calling out for Gaius made him jump.

“Get that hidden, and keep it out of sight!” Gaius ordered instantly, pulling Mirin's hair away and trying to reach in under a beam that had somehow landed to protect her. He searched for the pulse in her neck. “They'll be wanting me to help with Arthur. What do you know about that?”

“He was the one closest to her when she set off that first blast.” Merlin promptly answered as the strange package disappeared under his shirt. “Definitely broke his nose. He was out of it when I found him, but they don't know I'm down here. I was following her.”

Gaius shot a look at him. “Following her? For how long?” Gaius demanded. No stranger to Merlin's ability to obfuscate from a direct question, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Merlin was about to answer him. However, the sound of feet in the tunnels was getting closer.

“We will discuss this later,” Gaius said sharply as his fingers found a pulse. He looked down quickly at Mirin. “She's still alive.” He abruptly stood up straight, looking sternly at Merlin. “I'll distract Leon. You get her out, and you get her home and hide that package when you get there. I'll get back as soon as I can. I don't care what she has done at the moment, Merlin, she's still a patient and needs care. Do it. Do you understand?”

“But...” Merlin started. 

“Merlin, just do it. I have to see to Arthur. They won't let me treat anyone else in an emergency unless it is Uther himself. You know that. This one is up to you. Now get her home.” Gaius went to pick up one of the torches, suddenly wincing, grabbing at his back and groaning as he bent to retrieve it. 

“Hurry!” he snapped as he stumbled his way up down the tunnel towards the voices calling out for him.

For a moment Merlin watched Gaius' retreating back, knowing full well that he was going to have a lot to answer for when --and if-- things settled down. Heaving a sigh, Merlin turned back to the pile of debris and continued pulling rocks and wood off of Mirin. As he bent to the task, one thing kept creeping back into his thoughts. It was the sight of Mirin as she lay trapped by the webs on the floor of the tunnel, mere seconds before she had released the second blast of magic. The picture was clear in his mind's eye. Her arm was stretching out, about to release the power when she had looked up at the ceiling.

Realization sent an icy chill up Merlin's spine as he hefted the protecting beam up and away from Mirin's head. The blast hadn't been aimed at them. She had aimed it at the roof. As he looked at the crumpled little figure before him, he understood at last.

Rather then let them capture her, Mirin had brought the tunnel down on herself.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

“Your Highness, do me a kindness, and hold Arthur's shoulders down.” Gaius murmured in Uther's ear as he walked around behind the king. They were in Arthur's chambers. More specifically, they were hovering over Arthur's table, where Gaius had ordered the prince to be laid out while he checked him over.

Uther was properly in a mood fit to be tied. He had been working to reign in some sort of order over the chaos of that night while tending to his injured son. Pacing the chamber for a while, Uther banished everyone but Gaius out of the room and listened to the moans of his son as he had begun to come around. If lightning could have come from the regent's eyes, the room would have been incinerated by now.

Arthur, more or less coherent now, was groaning as he held a bloody rag under his nose. He was shirtless, and lying still as ordered by Gaius, who was gently coaxing the prince to swallow something that the physician was pouring down his throat. He squinted up warily at his father. 

“Wha' is that?” he mumbled, grimacing at the distasteful liquid.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Gaius said.

Expressionless, the old physician set the small bottle aside, then he removed the rag from under Arthur's nose. There were two thinly rolled pieces of muslin poking from out of his nostrils. Arthur looked at him bleary-eyed as Gaius pulled his hands away. The swelling was already setting in, and Gaius knew he had a job to do before he could let it get any worse.

He slipped his hands under Arthur's head, using his thumbs to very gently probe around the break in Arthur's nose. Uther, not even having to ask, suddenly appeared at Arthur's head. He knew exactly what Gaius was up to.

“What are you doing?” Arthur slurred, looking at Gaius suspiciously, and flinching from the occasional twang of pain.

“Just checking the break, Arthur. Whatever hit you was a glancing blow from the side directly to your face. Just relax...” 

“Meaning?” Arthur managed to mumble, settling back, trying to relax and let Gaius do his job.

“Meaning that the bone isn't setting straight.” Gaius looked Arthur in the eyes. “So I need to...”

With a surprising amount of strength, Gaius pushed down hard with one thumb, and poked the other side of Arthur's nose with the other. Uther's hands had slid sneakily into place and literally pinned Arthur's shoulders to the table as the prince let out a blood curdling yell of pain, bucking once and almost unseating Gaius, who had forced his own weight down on Arthur's chest.

That howl of sheer agony echoed down the corridors of the castle, causing several guards in attendance to wince in sympathy.

“Set the bone now or you'd end up with a spectacularly crooked nose.” He glanced at Uther. “Mustn't let that happen.” He probed around the break gently and nodded at Uther in satisfaction. 

Arthur's eyes were screwed shut from the pain, and what looked suspiciously like tears appeared at the corners of them. He pounded a bare foot into the wood of the table. “You can unclench the table now, Arthur,” Gaius added, releasing Arthur's head. He gently patted the prince's shoulder as he stood upright.

“Other than some spectacular bruising across his back and that break in his nose, he's fine, though I suspect he's going to look and feel like a mule kicked him by morning,” Gaius said to Uther.

“Please, don't talk over my head...” Arthur growled. Uther couldn't help but let a smirk slip onto his lips at his son's slurred speech. 

“And being in a superbly foul mood also tells me he will be just fine,” Gaius added as he tucked the little bottle back into his bag. He turned then, reaching over to take Arthur's arm in his hand. Together he and Uther sat the prince up. Blonde hair fell forward as Arthur groaned in pain, barely able to keep his head up, while he slowly swung his legs off the table.

“Why does everything feel fuzzy?” he demanded through the throbbing of his skull. “And where the hell is that useless manservant of mine?”

“That useless manservant of yours is helping other victims of whatever hit us tonight,” Gaius replied, taking Arthur's arm in his hands as they stood the wobbling Prince up. Arthur blinked once or twice, his mouth opening in an 'oh' of surprise as he was steered towards his bed.

“No wait...” he balked. “You said there where other victims?” He tried to stop, but they managed to easily keep him moving. 

“Nothing you can do about right now, Arthur,” Gaius said. “What you need now is bed rest.”

“I can't just go to bed when something is attacking Camelot!” Arthur protested feebly.

“You can as soon as that opium hits.”

“Opium?” Arthur asked, and he looked at Gaius.

“Poppy juice, and a very strong dose of it too, my boy; that's what you drank before I set that break in your nose.” Gaius saw the look of mingled ire and realization in the prince's eyes. 

“You poisoned me?” he accused. 

Gaius looked at him in consternation as they sat him on the edge of the bed. “Hardly poisoned!” He protested, reaching down to help swing Arthur's legs up onto the bed.

“Properly dosed you up, son,” Uther remarked forcing Arthur's shoulder back, and pushing him gently down. “Come morning, you are going to be begging him for more.”

“How would you know?” Arthur protested, trying to sit back up.

“Yours isn't the first broken nose in the family, son.” Uther looked at Gaius, who was straightening up with a groan of pain himself. 

Arthur shot his father a disgusted look as Gaius took hold of the end of the blankets that had been folded back. “You let him dose me up?” he asked accusingly.

“It was remarkably easy,” Uther replied as he pushed Arthur back down. He gave his son a stern look. “Stay down, I refuse to pick you up off the floor.”

Arthur looked at him abashedly and promptly relaxed into the mattress. As the king patted his shoulder and stood up, he gave him a smile that reminded the prince just how much of a wolf lurked under his father's exterior. allowing Gaius to pull the blankets up to Arthur's neck.

“Listen to your father,” Gaius said, pulling the blankets up to Arthur's neck. “I'll be back in the morning to replace those nose packs. In the mean time, just sleep. I'll prepare another dose of that poppy juice for tomorrow. However, if you need something beforehand, drink some strong wine.”

Gaius straightened, wincing at his own aches and pains and looked at Uther. “With your permission, Sire, I'd like to check on some of the other patients.”

Uther nodded his head, and Gaius gathered his things before making his way out of the room. Uther stood and waited until the door swung before turning and looking down at Arthur.

“Who did this?” he asked pointedly.

Arthur frowned at him, his eyes closed as he tentatively probed at his nose, which felt five times bigger than it ought. He cracked one eye open and looked up at Uther, who was bracing his arm on the upper canopy bar above Arthur's bed.

“Someone unleashed magic in this kingdom twice tonight, and they nearly killed you. Who was it?” 

Arthur let out a sigh, his body relaxing. “Father...” Arthur started, but Uther just leaned menacingly over the bed.

“Those explosions were most certainly of a magical nature, and the guards told me how you came to the relics vault and found the gate open. I know you: you locked it, and Gaius confirmed that. Something or someone was in that vault and made you travel up the corridor where you were found, who was it?”

“Do we really have to do this now?” Arthur asked.

Uther's grey eyes never blinked. “I was in that vault not an hour ago, Arthur. Someone ransacked the back of the vault. Something has been taken, and you saw who it was. Now tell me... Who. Was. It?”

Arthur looked at the icy coldness that had settled in his father's eyes and knew he was defeated before he could even say anything. He also knew that what he was about to say was going to rain hell on the life of an old and trusted friend.

“Gaius' patient. The mute. Mirin,” he said quietly, his eyes closing in despair. He felt the bed shift as Uther pushed himself away. They snapped open again as the king turned from his son. “Father, he doesn't know! Gaius doesn't know and neither does Merlin. She was the only one in the catacombs.”

Uther paused, starting to look back at his son. “And how am I supposed to believe that?” he pointedly asked. 

“Gaius was in the vault with me tonight, remember? Answering questions for you. If you won't believe me, believe the guards who accompanied us. Mirin was asleep when I arrived to get his help. Merlin was at Gwen's --they're friends, you know that. He wasn't anywhere near the tunnels.”

“But you are certain it was the mute who caused the magic?”

There was no response behind him. Uther turned his steely-eyed glare towards his son. Arthur was just staring up at the top of the canopy over his bed, remembering. “Arthur...” he growled.

“I saw her,” he said quietly. “She was the source of the magic.” 

“Did she have anything from the vault?” Uther asked.

Arthur let out another sigh, reaching up to rub his temples, his eyes closing wearily. If anything, the opium Gaius had dosed him with working amazingly fast. Even lying flat on his back, he swore the room was spinning. Only closing his eyes seemed to stop it.

“No...” he said, frowning as he tried to recall the events of the evening. “I don't remember seeing her with anything.”

Uther looked suspiciously at him for a moment and could see the struggle his son was starting to have. He heaved a disgusted sigh, knowing Arthur would be out in just seconds. “We'll discuss more of this later...” he said as he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Arthur never heard him leave.

* 

Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin when Gaius suddenly arrived home. So focused was he on his task that he never even heard Gaius open the chamber door.

The sight that greeted the old physician as he entered his chambers was one that had become all too common in the past few weeks. Merlin sitting by the little cot trying to clean up a profoundly unconscious Mirin. Gaius didn't say a word as he came around the screen, ignoring the chaos of even more damage from the second explosion all around him. and silently took charge of the situation.

His face was set in a grim mask by the time he completed that initial exam, and Merlin looked at him soberly as he passed whatever items Gaius had needed while he worked over the girl. Her hands were a mess: there were many small cuts, the bruising already was setting in, and she never once reacted to anything Gaius had had to do to her.

Merlin finally couldn't take the tension between them any more and rose, beginning to pace silently across the room as Gaius stitched what he could of the reopened –and aggravated- wound on Mirin's head. Something was simmering under the old physician's exterior, and it was very evident in the short clipped words he had spoken as he tended to his charge.

Finally, Gaius appeared from around the screen and fixed Merlin with a gaze that brooked absolutely no nonsense. Merlin just took one look, spun on his heel, letting his hand slap his leg, and shook his head in frustration.

“Please don't start...” Merlin begged, turning from the old man.

“What did you do?” Gaius never raised his voice, but the words felt like a sword slicing through Merlin. Merlin just continued shaking his head, now running a hand through his hair as he continued pacing the chamber.

“Is Arthur all right?” Merlin asked.

“Arthur is going to be fine. Quit trying to change the subject.” Gaius replied acidly. Merlin sucked in air, turning from him and pacing away.

“Merlin, you must tell me what happened. At least tell me you hid that package!” Gaius voice grew more stern.

“Yes, yes!” Merlin exclaimed, waving a hand towards his room. “It's up there.” For a split second he hoped that that would mollify Gaius' ire, but his mentor never moved.

“Sometime during the night you realized Mirin was not in this chamber; you said you followed her. Obviously that led you to the relics vault, Merlin. The gates were locked. I was there earlier in the evening with Arthur. I saw him lock the gates. What happened then?” Gaius snapped.

Merlin flinched, still pacing.

“I had to see...” he suddenly blurted out, “I had to see. She was desperate, Gaius, trying to get in there. It was like watching one of the foxes chewing its leg off to escape the trap. It was like... it was like--” Merlin sucked in a deep breath of air, “--it was like Freya all over again. The hopelessness, the desperation...”

He looked pleadingly at Gaius. “I couldn't stand seeing that much pain in someone!”

“What did you do?” Gaius repeated, softer now.

Merlin ran his hand through his hair again, this time clenching his fist in his hair and turning from Gaius. “I unlocked the gate,” he said softly. “Using magic.”

Gaius closed his eyes in despair. “Oh, Merlin...” he breathed, reaching up to rub his hand across his forehead. Suddenly he could feel all his long years aching in his bones.

“What was I supposed to do?” Merlin exclaimed, spinning on in him frustration. “I couldn't just watch her suffer any more. Something's been all wrong about her from the very beginning, Gaius, you know it as well as I do. I figured if I could just see what it was she was after we could answer a few of the questions. You'd think she would take something of incredible value, but she passed all that stuff up, didn't even look at it. She just went straight for that old dusty package.”

“And look where it got us!” Gaius snapped. “She nearly killed Arthur tonight! That alone is an executable punishment, but once Uther puts the pieces together -and you know he will- he will execute her as a witch.”

“But she's no witch, and she's just a kid!” Merlin protested.

“Has that ever stopped Uther?” Gaius snapped at him. Merlin balked and then began pacing again.

“You keep saying she's got no magic, yet tonight, in possession of whatever is in that package, she used magic. What was it?”

“I don't know, Gaius!” Merlin protested. “I've never felt its like. The only thing that comes close is Kilgharrah, and his is the oldest magic I know of. This magic she had, it was strange, wild, raw...” Merlin shuddered. “Unquestionably ancient.”

“What happened once she got a hold of that package?” Gaius demanded. 

Merlin heaved a sigh, dropping his head. “She took off running, Gaius. She just started running. I have never seen such joy on anyone's face before. She got the package and started running up the corridor. I tried to stop her, but I was still reacting to how suddenly her magic had appeared.”

“Joy?” Gaius asked, frowning.

“Yes, joy. It's the only way to describe it. It was like she was being reunited? She grabbed the package and took off. From the minute her fingers touched it, that ancient magic just appeared.” Merlin looked at Gaius imploringly. “It felt like a punch to the stomach. I could hardly breathe.”

He heaved a sigh and continued, “When she started running up the tunnels, I tried to cut her off, but then I realized Arthur was down there with us. When she saw me, she turned back and ran into Arthur...”

“Which is when the first explosion occurred,” Gaius finished. He looked at Merlin sternly. “She could have killed him, Merlin!”

“You don't think I don't know that?” Merlin protested, he continued pacing, unable to look at Gaius. who was raising his brow at him in admonition. “While I checked on Arthur, she started heading down towards that unused exit leading out of Camelot and into the woods. How the hell she could navigate those tunnels in the dark is beyond me. Even I can't do that! That must be where you come into this. I heard you and knew I had to cut her off and stop her before she could let off another shot of that magic.”

“So you hexed the cobwebs,” Gaius said, as Merlin nodded.

“When she fell to the ground, you stepped into the tunnel with us, and I could see her getting ready to unleash that second explosion, I had to get you out of the way. Only...”

Gaius paused, looking at Merlin and knowing he was the one who had prevented him from getting buried under the rubble pile with Mirin. “Only what?” he asked his softly.

“She wasn't aiming at either one of us, Gaius,” Merlin said sadly, “She wasn't trying to hurt us. I saw her face just before she let her magic loose.” 

He looked at Gaius beseechingly. “She aimed for the ceiling. She deliberately brought the roof down on top of her self.” Merlin watched a slowly dawning comprehension fill Gaius' eyes.

“Gaius, she deliberately tried to kill herself.”


	10. Chapter 10

**10.**

Merlin watched the colour slowly drain from Gaius' face, and he closed his eyes in despair. “Gaius?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Gaius said absently turning his head, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and squeezing his eyes shut.

“You have that look on your face, Gaius, the one where you've figured something out and you're afraid to say it out loud. What have you..?” Merlin started to ask before suddenly looking towards the door in alarm. Both men heard the approaching sounds of booted feet. 

Gaius snapped his eyes open and looked at Merlin. “Whatever is about to happen next, keep your mouth shut!” he said sharply, grabbing Merlin by the elbow and propelling him around the screen with a surprising amount of strength. “Sit and don't say a thing!” He added. 

Merlin looked at him in utter confusion and slowly sank to sit on the stool near Mirin's head. Gaius was no sooner around the screen, straightening to his full height and clasping his gloved hands in front of him, when the door burst open.

It was held open by one guard as Uther strode in, followed immediately by the second. He jerked a head towards the stairs to Merlin's room at the guard following him. “Where is the witch, Gaius?” he said in a voice far too calm to be trusted.

“Sire?” Gaius looked at Uther while the guard burst through Merlin's bedroom door. “If you mean Mirin?” He held a hand towards the screen. The guard turned in Merlin's doorway, shaking his head at the king.

Uther pinned him a moment with his grey-eyed glare, and then he looked around the screen. Merlin sat there, hands on his knees, eyeing the king warily. Uther beckoned the other guard over.

“Take that witch and lock her in the dungeons...” Uther said, ignoring Merlin as the guard stepped forward. Uther turned back towards Gaius. “She's to be executed in the morning.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...” Merlin rambled as the guard bent over Mirin and reached to grab her arm

“Then spare yourself the trouble,” Gaius replied in a voice that suddenly grew icy. 

Uther, not once blinking, looked at Gaius suspiciously, and he slowly circled around the physician to give the guards room to take Mirin into their custody. “She's a witch, Gaius, Arthur confirmed it. She will burn for what she's done tonight, I can promise you that.”

“And I said you can spare yourself the trouble,” Gaius replied again, lifting his chin in defiance. “The girl is dying already. She'll be dead before morning.” 

Merlin started in alarm.

“Give me one reason why I should believe you? Isn't that what you told Arthur when she first arrived in my kingdom? And yet she miraculously recovers. You've been harbouring a witch in this chamber for weeks now. That alone puts you in a very precarious position, Gaius...” Uther threatened. “I knew there could only have been one other so-called 'patient' tonight and that could only be the witch herself. There were no others down in those catacombs to be injured besides my son!”

“Take a good look around the room, your Highness,” Gaius shot back at him while the two guards lifted the utterly limp Mirin between them. Merlin rose, preparing for anything. He looked at Gaius, appalled. The old physician was waving a hand at the devastation that had occurred in his chambers from the aftershocks.

“Anything I could possibly use to help save her life was destroyed earlier by the first explosion. Everything else I had, I used on your son. I won't have time to make anything to save her life now. And what would be the point of doing that when you insist on burning her at the stake anyway? Why should I save her life for you to just take it?”

Merlin's jaw actually dropped open as he gaped at Gaius.

Like a snake, Uther glared hard at Gaius, beginning to pace in front of him. His eyes narrowed dangerously, never once leaving the old physician's face.

“Just how did you know where to find her down there in the first place, Gaius?” the king spat out.

Gaius never wavered, “Leon fetched me. He told me Arthur had been injured. Merlin found me while I was making my way there. We were on our way to attend Arthur when the second explosion occurred. We found her under the rubble.”

“And you neglected to accompany him in tending to your master?” Uther rounded suddenly on Merlin, 

“I...” Merlin started, blinking in surprise.

“At my insistence!” Gaius snapped, cutting Uther off, forcing the monarch's attention back on to him. “My first duty was to your son, I went to attend to him and left Merlin to dig her out of the rubble and tend to her injuries. Ask Sir Leon; he will corroborate my words. If you insist on punishing Merlin for doing my bidding as the royal physician, then let his punishment fall on me. I had two patients tonight, my Lord, and your son was the priority.”

Uther continued to glare at Gaius. “You'd better be grateful I don't put the both of you in stocks...” he hissed. “He should have been tending to his master and not to a witch.” He jabbed an accusing finger at Merlin. 

“You might think she's a witch, Uther, but for me she is an injured child and a dying one at that. A patient is a patient in spite of whether or not they are the enemy,” Gaius replied tersely. 

“You seem to still be convinced she is not a witch!” Uther looked at Gaius accusingly, “You even assured me the other day that there was no way she could be one, that you would know. Don't forget, Gaius, I know your heart, your sympathies...”

“And I am still convinced that she is no witch. She's incapable of speaking spells, Uther. The girl cannot talk in our language.”

“My son saw her using magic tonight!” Uther snapped. “I won't allow that to happen in my realm. Are you accusing my son of lying?”

“One must ask Arthur if she said anything to facilitate the spell,” Gaius shot back. “Has anyone spoken to Arthur since he was found? Has a record been made yet of the relics vault? Has anything been taken? Have they discovered who opened the gate? There is no way Mirin could have said anything to create a spell strong enough as the ones unleashed tonight, much less a spell to open a gate. She had to have something in her possession to do it with. What was it? Nothing was found in the rubble where the second explosion buried her.”

“It's obvious, Gaius, that she opened it,” Uther spat. “How else could the gates be opened? The only explanation is that she's using spells in her own language. And then my son caught her doing it.”

“Your son wasn't near the vault itself when the first explosion occurred and neither was Mirin if she indeed was the source of the magic. Did he see her with anything?” Gaius asked. “You, yourself, have said that he only saw her use the magic. How could that be? ”

“All I need is his word that she used magic to pass sentence of death! I could easily have you thrown in the dungeons for covering something like this up, Gaius. She's a witch, somehow you --of all the people in Camelot-- must have known about it.” Uther said with finality.

“I assure you, I know nothing about her having any kind of magic. Obviously you must decide whether or not to believe me. As far as I am concerned, Uther, this child, has been nothing more that a patient of mine and is now a patient of mine who is dying. If you insist on having your guards lug her around like a sack of potatoes, then take her and be done with it.”

To Merlin's shock, Gaius simply backed away from Uther and the guards, still holding the unconscious Mirin between them. Uther, looking ruthless in his ire, continued his stare down with Gaius, before glancing at the guards. With a curt nod he jerked his head at the cot.

Merlin eagerly leaned forward, taking Mirin's shoulders; the two men almost dumping her on the cot in their haste. Already, in their minds, they had been in a witch's presence. They backed away quickly.

“We'll return in the morning,” Uther said with a cold snarl. “Dead or not, she will burn for using witchcraft in my kingdom.”

Without another word, Uther turned on his heel and strode out of the room, the two guards following. Several long minutes passed as the two men listened to the sound of their feet fading away.

Merlin, helping to resettle Mirin on the cot, looked up at Gaius, who hadn't moved from where he stood.

The old physician stood stock still for several seconds before he suddenly deflated. His head dropped, and he reached one hand out behind him, searching for something to grab onto. His other hand stole up his side to grab at his hip. Merlin was off the stool in a flash, reaching Gaius as he stumbled backwards. 

“Gaius?” Merlin asked in alarm.

“The door. Merlin, get the door,” Gaius gasped as Merlin steered him to sit down on his own bed. Merlin practically ran to the door, slamming it shut and hurrying back to Gaius, who was wincing in obvious pain, eyes shut tight as he drooped his head in sheer exhaustion.

“Are you all right? Tell me you're all right?” Merlin crouched before him, anxiously searching his face. 

Gaius nodded his head, reaching up to grip Merlin's shoulder. “I'm fine, I'm fine,” he reassured Merlin. “That was just.... difficult.”

“Difficult!? It was bloody insane!” Merlin exclaimed, a disbelieving chuckle escaped his lips. “You just stood up to Uther and won!”

“Not won, Merlin. Not won. Merely buying us a little time. He's still angry enough to think of some sort of punishment, but until then, we still have Mirin to worry about.” He winced again and looked over at her.

“Is it true then? Is she dying?”

“Yes, Merlin, she is. In the same sense that I warned you about before. The next twenty four hours are going to be crucial. She's taken a bad hit to her head, and there's no telling if there is internal bleeding yet. Any of that dust she breathed in tonight will most certainly aggravate her lungs, as well. A relapse is almost guaranteed. We have to get her out of Camelot!”

“W...wait!” Merlin said looking at Gaius. “You just lied through your teeth to Uther about her. He's going to execute her in the morning! Dead or not.”

“So we turn her over, dead, to be burned,” Gaius said simply. Merlin stared at his mentor in shock, wondering, not for the first time in the last several minutes, if he had indeed lost his head.

“Just like that?” Merlin shook his head, not comprehending. “W... what have you got us into?”

“A very simple ruse with a very strong illusion, one that I can't possibly do myself, which is where I need you. But before I tell you what it is I have in mind, I need you to get me that package.”

Merlin, still not comprehending what Gaius was going on about, just watched as the old man dropped his head again, obviously feeling the effects of what had occurred to them that night and from the fact he had, more or less, just stood up to the king. His shoulders sagged and to Merlin's searching eyes, he suddenly seemed like a very old, very tired man. 

Merlin vanished momentarily up to his room, fishing the package out from the floorboard hiding spot where he kept his book of spells, then hurried back downstairs. He knelt down again in front of Gaius, setting the package on his lap. Gaius opened his eyes, running his hands over the package.

“You know what's in there, don't you?” Merlin asked. 

Gaius smiled sadly, and nodded. “It's harmless, Merlin, I assure you. Do you feel any magic?” he asked him.

Merlin frowned, shaking his head. Gaius nodded, knowing that that would be his ward's answer. “Hand me a knife? ” He asked.

Merlin twisted, snatching up a knife from the bedside table. “I know you've suspected something all along about her...” he said.

“And I didn't have any proof until now,” Gaius replied irritably, taking the knife from Merlin. “Unlike Uther, I won't jump to conclusions without absolute proof.” He slipped the knife under the twine and severed it before handing the knife back to Merlin.

Those aged, gloved hands carefully tugged away the twine and pulled back the old linen. His fingers stopped the moment they touched the item inside, and Merlin saw his eyes close in sadness and despair. Heaving a tired, weary sigh, Gaius hung his head, reaching up with one hand to rub at his eyes. For a long moment, silence descended on the room. 

“Gaius?” Merlin asked softly, trying to see just what was in the package. He knew that Gaius' suspicion's had been verified.

Gaius started, drew in a breath, and carefully spread the linen apart. His fingers curled around a thick, neatly folded item, that Merlin was beginning to see was covered in some sort of fur. Gaius pulled the linen away.

It was dark, with a black undercoat, and covered with a silvery thick fur liberally sprinkled in rosettes of dark grey and black. Gaius carefully began unfolding what was obviously an animal's skin. The front feet, flipper-like, ended in claws that where tucked neatly under the main body, and he gently unfolded the eyeless head of a perfectly preserved, fully undamaged hide. Whiskers poked outward from the muzzle, the nose intact and the mouth open in an eerie grimace. Gaius looked at it, gripping the skin by the 'shoulders' and lifting it up to expose the underbelly, seamlessly merging the silver, black and grey mottled fur on the creatures back to a silvery white on its underside.

Merlin frowned. He couldn't detect how the skin had been cut from the creature's body. He also couldn't see where any of the holes for drawstrings would have been poked in the hide to pull the skin tight for tanning. Gaius lifted the skin up, and the creature's full body was exposed, ending in a pair of flippers.

Merlin reached out and touched the fur, still surprisingly soft.

“It's a seal, isn't it?” he asked, genuinely awed. He'd been a villager all his life until he had come to Camelot, Ealdor was nowhere near the sea. However, Merlin was a voracious reader, and he had read enough of Gaius' books to know how to identify creatures without having seen them before.

“No,” Gaius correctly softly, gently laying the skin across his arm as he prepared to rise from the bed. Merlin frowned, instantly helping Gaius, who groaned at the effort, to stand. Stiffening rapidly from the night's activities, Gaius, obviously hurting now, hobbled over to where Mirin lay on the cot. 

“If it's not a seal...” Merlin started, but Gaius waved a hand at him, deep in thought, clutching e younger man's arm while he painfully lowered himself down on the stool next to Mirin's head.

Despite his curiosity, Merlin held his tongue, seeing something overcoming Gaius as he reached up and set his hand on Mirin's forehead.

“Mirin?” he coaxed, trying to get the girl to awaken. “Mirin?” She didn't respond. Gaius checked the girl's eyes and turned to Merlin. “Do you feel anything magical?” he asked.

Merlin, frowning, shook his head.

Gaius lifted Mirin's arm and gently set the skin on her chest before laying her arm across it.

Mirin's hand abruptly and reflexively clutched at the skin, then she drew in a faltering breath of air, before relaxing, still not opening her eyes. She didn't regain consciousness. 

Merlin, however, let out a wince of pain, reaching up to grind the heel of his hand into his left eye, as he too, suddenly drew in a sharp breath. That ancient, peculiar, magic literally hit him again at its abrupt and sudden appearance.

Gaius looked up at him, eyebrow raised in curiosity as Merlin looked between his mentor and the girl on the cot in confusion. “H...” he stammered, “How? It's a seal skin, but...?” He could feel his own power quickly asserting itself over the presence of the peculiar magic.

“She has to be touching it, or holding it, Merlin,” Gaius said, “in order for her magic to even appear.”

“Her magic?” Merlin asked. He winced again, slowly dropping his hand and looking at Mirin warily. “But she's not a witch...” he said, shaking his head to clear it.

“No, she isn't, but she is a magical creature, Merlin, much like Kilgharrah, or the even the unicorn. A creature of myths, of legends. Very, very old. And very rare. She was born this way.”

Merlin simply stared at him, “Gaius? What is she?” he asked.

Gaius looked back down at Mirin and gently tugged the skin away from her. “What she is, Merlin, is a very lost creature, a long, long way from home, and we need to get her back there before she dies.”

“You talk to me all the time about obfuscating and bending the truth and yet here you are practicing it with remarkable and infuriating ease!” Merlin shot at him irritably. “Would you mind answering a straight question with a straight answer?”

Gaius blinked and looked at Merlin in consternation for a moment while he carefully picked up the skin and began refolding it. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded. 

Merlin sighed in exasperation and dropped down on the stool opposite Gaius, feeling the raw magic abruptly disappear as Gaius removed the skin from Mirin's touch. “If that isn't a seal's skin and she is a magical creature, what is she?”

Gaius paused, as he set the skin on his lap. “Fetch the Bestiary, Merlin.”

Merlin sighed his shoulders dropping in defeat at the old man's deliberate refusal to answer an outright question. He pushed himself back up, disappeared around the screen, and dug out from among the many books cluttered around the room, Gaius' tome on the beasts of the known world.

He handed it to him, a disgusted look on his face. Gaius ignored him, setting the book on his lap and began flipping through the fragile pages. After a moment, he found what he was looking for and turned the book around, handing it back to Merlin.

“That is what she is, Merlin.” Gaius tapped the page in question as his other hand gripped the skin on his lap.

“Mirin is not a seal,” the old physician said softly, looking down at the girl still unconscious on her cot. 

“Mirin is a selkie.”


	11. Chapter 11

**11.**

“A selkie?” Merlin asked absently while he rapidly began reading the page opened before him.

“A strange creature, a magical one, and utterly harmless,” Gaius explained. “They live their lives as seals, but occasionally they can come upon land and shed their skins to walk about as humans.” 

Merlin frowned, glancing at Gaius. “Why?” he asked.

Gaius shrugged, “No one knows. Sightings of them are very rare indeed. They are reported to live mostly out along the far outer island chains, mostly south, past the Isle of Mora.”

“Odin's realm,” Merlin mused softly, continuing to read.

“Yes, past his realm,” Gaius confirmed.

Merlin, his face full of confusion looked at Gaius. “How did she end up here?”

“We may never know,” Gaius replied. “If you read further you'll see that the fisher folk of the islands, particularly the men, would sometimes capture the skin of a selkie that was on land. If that happened, the selkie became--” Gaius paused, searching for the right word. “--they would become indentured to the fisherman. Usually becoming the man's wife and bearing him children until, and if, the selkie could regain their skin. Should that happen, the selkie would abandon all to return to the sea, never to go back. Rumour has it that one could identify children of a selkie by their black hair and peculiar fishing abilities.”

“If that were so, and the selkie was indentured to the man who captured their skin, what is Mirin doing running around loose?” Merlin asked.

“Perhaps the man died, who knows? All we know is that Mirin somehow became free of her captor, and followed her skin to Camelot in an effort to retrieve it.” Gaius sighed. “She's been here all this time, simply trying to get what's hers and return home to her people. That's what she's been telling us all along, that she just wants to go home.”

“Her language?” Merlin mused thoughtfully. 

“The Old Tongue in one of its very ancient forms. Those reports in that book, if true, say that the selkie could speak but only in a very queer, peculiar, accent. Mirin's proof of that. Hence her being a monoglot. What has never been known about selkies is what happened to them if they regained their skin but were still trapped on land.”

“That they pack one hell of an explosive punch?” Merlin asked dryly, still reading. 

“In an effort to protect what is theirs, apparently,” Gaius confirmed. He looked at Mirin sadly, reaching out and gently clutching the girl's re-bandaged hand. “She's known all along that she's dying. This far from home and trapped on land. When she got the skin back tonight and ran into Arthur, she was trying to get away from him with her skin. When you trapped her in the cobwebs, she realized that she was about to be captured again. Rather than let that happen...”

Merlin glanced at Gaius, “She brought the ceiling down on herself.” He shook his head, regret in his eyes, and ran his hand down his lips.

Gaius nodded, studying the girl's bruised face. “She'd rather die than be captured again.” He glanced at Merlin and softly added. “We need to get her home.”

Heaving a sigh, Merlin absently nodded his head while gripping the book in front of him. He studied Mirin thoughtfully. “How are we supposed to do that, Gaius, if Uther intends to burn her at the stake in the morning?”

“Well first, we need to create a diversion for Uther. Then we need to get Mirin out of Camelot. After that, it will be necessary to get her as close to the waters around the Isle of Mora as possible. From there she can be free to go home.” Gaius replied.

“Oh. Easy,” Merlin said dryly. “Sorry Uther, can't burn your witch this morning. We have to pack her up for a ridiculously dangerous journey through thieves, highwaymen, and mercenaries and take her to the ocean where she needs to live long enough to make it into the waters.” Merlin shook his head and glanced at Gaius. “Just tell Arthur I'm going to be gone for a while.” 

Merlin continued his ramble, “How are we supposed to get her out of Camelot Gaius, when Uther fully intends on executing her? Dead or alive I might add? Then how are we--” he smiled at Gaius sourly, waving a finger between them, “--supposed to get through Odin's realms, and all the fun a trip of that sort entails, to the seas near Mora, when she is dying already, like you say she is?”

“I've already got part of that figured out,” Gaius replied, looking at Merlin in irritation. He clutched the seal skin to himself and made to stand up. He nearly collapsed back down again, letting out a groan of pain while his hand, once again, stole to his hip, gripping his back in obvious discomfort.

“And if there is one thing you aren't capable of right now.” Merlin growled at him, setting the Bestiary aside. He rose and reached over, helping Gaius to stand up, “it's making a dangerous journey, through enemy territory, with a dying patient.”

“I'm afraid you might be right there...” Gaius, eyes screwed shut in pain, gasped out. “But that doesn't stop the fact that Mirin -at the very least- needs to get out of Camelot.”

Merlin heaved a sigh. “Getting her out won't be a problem, but what are we going to do about Uther?”

“That's where you come in,” Gaius replied, hobbling his way painfully to a nearby table. He gathered up the linen cloth and began re-wrapping the seal skin in it.

“Why am I suddenly not liking this?” Merlin eyed Gaius sceptically.

“Oh, I think you'll be up for the challenge,” the old physician replied mysteriously, tucking the package under his arm and reaching for his medical bag. With a grimace of pain he slipped the strap of the bag around his neck. “Is she too much for you to carry?”

“Mirin? No. Why...?” Merlin started.

Gaius waved a hand at him irritably. “In due time, Merlin. First we need to get her to Gwen's, then I want you to meet me at the home where the orphaned children live.”

Merlin drew in a deep breath of air, having uncertainty written all over his face, “The orphaned children?” 

“Do I have to repeat everything to you tonight?” Gaius grumbled, looking at Merlin is consternation.

“You know, you're a real grouch when you're in pain. And you think I'm bad at obfuscation? Who do you think I've learned it from?”

“Merlin, just do as I ask. I'll explain at that house,” Gaius growled, turning for the door. He held it open and waited, one eyebrow lifted in defiance. 

Merlin sighed in defeat then he bent and scooped Mirin up, jostling her head up onto his shoulder, then he straightened, before heading for the door with her.

* 

Camelot's version of a home for orphaned or abandoned children was a small, stone-built, house in the lower town, opposite from the Citadel and the south tower where Gaius lived. 

This late in the evening most of the children were long asleep. The fire had been banked down low, only a few candles remained lit, and the woman who ran the shelter sat at a table near the fire, occasionally dabbing at her eyes, while Gaius sat and consoled her, gently patting her hand.

Merlin appeared in the doorway, mouth pressed in a grim line, as he entered the home, looking for Gaius. The woman saw him, nodding at him in her tears while Gaius, stiffly, rose from the table. 

“This way...” Gaius said softly, holding a hand out towards a door that was closed. It became evident why when the old physician opened it.

On a work table directly before them, a small shrouded body lay almost fully wrapped in muslin. Merlin hesitated, letting Gaius shut the door behind them. A few candles lent their light and Merlin got sight of the body. Only the head and face had not been wrapped, but the linens for the job lay nearby. She had been a thin child, a blonde, and now lay still, gaunt, and grey in death. Two pennies had been set on her closed eyes.

“A wasting disease,” Gaius said, noticing the pity on Merlin's face. “Took her this morning at last, poor thing. She's no longer suffering.” He absently set his hand on the girl's head.

“What are we doing here?” Merlin asked suspiciously.

“The good woman couldn't bear the thought of finishing the shroud so I told her I would finish it for her.”

Merlin looked at Gaius steadily, who held his gaze. “And?”

“I promised her that the child would get a proper cremation. And she will. After you do something for me.”

Merlin frowned. “Am I going to regret this?” He dropped his voice lower so as not to be heard by anyone in the house.

“Not if you do it just right.”

“It!?” Merlin hissed, “Gaius, I won't desecrate a body!”

“You're not going to! Do you think I would honestly ask you to do that?” Gaius huffed in offence. “Give me a little bit more credit than that, boy!” he admonished under his breath.

“Then what are you proposing that I do? You only ask something like this when you need my particular kind of help!” Merlin raised his ring and index fingers of both hands up and wiggled them.

“All we need, Merlin, is a glamour-spell. You know the type, create the illusion that this child is someone else. But make it a strong one,” Gaius whispered in exasperation. “You don't have to literally change the child herself.”

Merlin stared at Gaius for a moment. Comprehension began creeping into his brain. “You want to substitute this girl for Mirin for Uther to burn,” he said.

“Keep your voice down!” Gaius shushed him. He fixed him with his squinty-eyed glare, eyebrow raised. “Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do.”

Merlin's mouth dropped open for a split second as he stared hard at Gaius, preparing to protest. Then he clicked it shut, straightening for a moment, looking away into nothingness while thoughts and ideas flooded his brain. A spark lit his eyes and very slowly a mischievous grin began to spread across his face.

“Just don't get too clever!” Gaius warned.

Merlin glanced at the dead girl's face, stepped back and held out his hand. In a muted, urgent voice he commanded, “Onýwe ne swá þínsylfum for oþra!” A flash lit his eyes and both men looked at the girl.

Nothing had happened.

Merlin frowned, thought hard for a moment, and then held both hands out over the girl. “Onýwe ne swá þínsylfum for oþra!”

A flare lit his eyes, and silence. Nothing had occurred again. Merlin snorted in indignation while Gaius raised his eyebrow.

Shifting around the table, Merlin tried a few more commanding attempts --in various stages of urgency and force-- all to no avail. He finally ended up where he had started, setting both hands on the table and frowning down at the body, lost in deep thought.

Gaius knew that Merlin was one of most powerful sorcerers to ever live, but even he was taken aback at what happened next. He had never heard of a sorcerer who had been born with magic until he had encountered Merlin. The sheer simplicity of what Merlin could do, to astonishing effect, often left Gaius in awe. 

He watched Merlin lean in close, staring intently at the dead girl's face. Lifting his hand, he held it mere inches over her nose and completely changed tactics in the use of the spell.

“Onýwe ne swá þínsylfum for oþra,” Merlin whispered softly to the dead girl like she could actually hear him. There followed a burst of gold light behind Merlin's eyes.

Gaius, a little perplexed, wondered why he had directed the spell almost like a request instead of a command. Merlin had merely asked the girl to appear different for the sake of others. Gaius was about to question what he was doing when he glanced down.

Long black curls spread out across the table and Mirin's face, grey in death, appeared in place of the dead orphan. 

Merlin let out a relieved sigh, studying the results, and glanced up at Gaius with a smile. 

The old physician stared back at Merlin in astonishment. “How?” he started to ask then shook his head. “Oh, never mind...” he grumbled, “there's a mirror behind you.” He gestured towards it, still astonished that a spell of that nature could be used to coax a result instead of commanding one.

Merlin turned and snatched up the mirror. Holding it at an angle, both men looked into it and the dead girl's face reflected back at them.

“Let's just hope that Uther doesn't have one of these with him in the morning,” Merlin said, nodding at the mirror. 

“I, for one, am hoping he doesn't even get past the shroud. Hand me those linens, Merlin. Let's finish getting this girl ready.”

“Giving her quite a send off,” Merlin remarked quietly, setting the mirror back then turning to pick up a roll of linen. “Infamous, but not every orphan gets a cremation courtesy of a king.”

“Better than being tossed into an unmarked grave or burning yet another innocent person alive. I told the woman that I would take care of the body for her since she could never afford a proper cremation.”

“But you never had this in mind...” Merlin said while Gaius began wrapping the body in the remaining shroud. Merlin's eyes suddenly narrowed. “Or did you?”

“I didn't until I got word that she had passed on.” Gaius nodded at the girl. “I knew Uther would figure something out about what occurred tonight and with his penchant for unthinking retribution, I realized something would have to be done to get Mirin away from Camelot. This was the first idea I came up with.”

“So what do we do about Mirin?”

“Get her out of Camelot. Tonight. I'll help you get this child back to our chambers. You'll need to pack while I go back to Gwen's and see if I get get Mirin to wake up. We need to speak to her.”

“Setting aside all that's things occurring around us tonight, what am I going to do once I get Mirin outside of the castle proper? What if she dies?” Merlin asked,

“You'll know what to do, son, I know you can do that properly,” Gaius said with all due seriousness.  
“I'll gather together anything you may need from what's survived of my stock at home. In the long run it might be better that you do this alone...” he mused, looking thoughtful. “With your magic, you might be better off.”

“Maybe,” Merlin wondered, preparing to pick up the shrouded body. “Barring any of the possible and probable obstacles that will come my way traveling into Odin's realm. Oh yeah, there's one other thing too?” he said as he picked the girl up.

“Which is?” Gaius asked.

“What are we gonna tell Gwen about Mirin?”

*

“She's a what?” Gwen asked.

Merlin's shoulders sagged, “Mirin is a selkie,” He explained again. “She's from an area far to the south of Odin's realm, well past the Isle of Mora even. She's a very long way from home, and I am going to try and get her back there.”

“You are?” Gwen asked, wringing her hands, and frowning in curiosity as she watched Gaius, who sat next to Mirin encasing a ball of herbs into a tiny muslin pouch. He carefully tied off the small bundle then reach for a candle. “By yourself?” 

“Gaius was going to go also, but it's become necessary that I go myself. I just need to do the impossible first before I can even get started,” Merlin cracked, beginning to rearrange his pack on Gwen's table.

“What are you going to tell Arthur?” She exclaimed. 

“That's just one of my impossible tasks...” Merlin remarked. 

Gwen folded her arms, “And the others?”

“Getting a horse, and getting her out of the city.” Merlin nodded at Mirin.

“You're sure she's this selkie you're talking about?”

“That proved it,” Merlin said, nodding at the linen package sitting on the table. “It's what Mirin came to Camelot in search of.” He glanced up at Gwen. She stared at him in equal parts confusion and scepticism. Merlin sighed, “It's all very... complex and hard to explain, Gwen. Let's just say that if Mirin doesn't get out of Camelot and back to her people, she won't survive.”

“Merlin...” Gaius called, interrupting their conversation. “The package.”

Merlin snatched it up and joined the old physician at Mirin's side. Gaius uncorked a small bottle of oil which he prepared to drip onto the tiny bundle of herbs he held. He smiled apologetically at Gwen. “Forgive me, dear, once I saturate this, the volatile oils are going to create a bit of an odour. It should be enough to wake her up.” He looked at Merlin. “Set the package close by and sit her up for me?” He asked. “Whatever you do...” he warned while Merlin moved to do as he was asked. “Don't let her get her hands on that until we have talked to her.”

“What is in that?” Gwen asked, looking worriedly at the package.

“The explosions that we all felt tonight?” Merlin said while he sat Mirin up, “that was part of what caused them.”

“A part?” Gwen glanced at the package in question then at the two of them in confusion. “What's the other part?”

“Mirin...” Gaius replied.

Gwen looked at them both then folded her arms. “Has anyone ever told you two how infuriatingly vague you can be?”

“Did I forget to mention that selkies are magical creatures?” Merlin asked.

“Magical!?” Gwen exclaimed, alarmed.

“Merlin...” Gaius warned as he dripped the oil onto his tiny bundle of herbs. Gwen frowned even more when Merlin, with Mirin's head propped up on his shoulder, turned his head away and gripped her arms, crossing them over her stomach, effectively preventing her from moving them.

“Gwen, do not be alarmed with what is about to happen. Everything will be all right,” Gaius reassured handing the vial to her, he leaned forward, cupping his hand near Mirin's nose and holding the bundle immediately under her nostrils.

“You will understand in just a few moments...” he replied as Gwen caught a whiff of the oil. Her eyes' widened when she involuntarily inhaled.

“What is this!?” she exclaimed, searching for the stopper to cap the odour away.

“Spirit of hartshorn, in a mixture with herbs. It's used to rouse patients who have been hit in the head or have fainted. It causes you to inhale,” Gaius quickly explained when Mirin began to stir. 

“All right, Merlin,” the old physician warned. “Here we go.”


	12. Chapter 12

**12.**

Merlin gripped Mirin's wrists, grimacing at the odour of the hartshorn, and tilted his head away as she began to wake.

A moan escaped her lips, and her eyes fluttered, fighting the noxious odour invading her nostrils. That moan turned into a weak cry of despair when she opened her eyes, tensing at the strong arms encasing her. The persistent smell followed her nose even when she turned her head away.

When the noxious oil took effect, a struggle ensued when Mirin tried to break free of Merlin's grip, but he only tightened his hold, and began speaking in her ear in the Old Tongue.

Gaius pulled the herb bundle away, while Merlin continued to repeat whatever he was saying, calmly but insistent. After a moment, realizing she wasn't able to break free, Mirin sagged against him, turning her head away, her face crumpling in deep grief.

“Mirin? Mirin, child, look at me,” Gaius murmured, cupping her chin gently, turning her to face him. She tried to pull away, but Gaius reached down to pick up the linen package. When she caught sight of it, she tried again to break free of Merlin's grip, but he hadn’t let her go and continued speaking to her.

Gwen, completely lost in the events, watched as a give and take ensued, Gaius insisting that Mirin calm down and Merlin, effortlessly holding on to the struggling girl, continued speaking to her in a strange language. 

Eventually Mirin, with tears streaming down her cheeks, subsided, unable to fight against Merlin's strength and she stared miserably at the package now set in Gaius' lap.

“When did you learn how to speak..?” Gwen started to ask Merlin. 

“Lots of elders in our village,” he quickly replied. “They always spoke in the old language. Us kids quickly picked it up.”

“Much as Latin does for me, having spent so much time in it for my studies,” Gaius added absently, “Ask her to listen to me, Merlin,” he murmured, unconsciously wiping tears off Mirin's face with his fingertips.

“Let me,” Gwen suddenly said, kneeling next to the men and setting her hand on Mirin's arm. “Mirin? Mirin? Listen to us, please?” she asked softly, reaching up to push away Mirin's black hair from her face. Gwen felt a pang of despair at the expression of utter hopelessness in those dark eyes as they focused on her. “We're trying to help, Mirin, do you understand?”

Effortlessly slipping into the role of translator, Merlin repeated what she said into Mirin's ear. With tears still rolling down her cheeks, she looked mutely between Gaius and Gwen. 

“Mirin, we know who you are,” Gaius said, tapping the package. “We know that you're a selkie.”

Her face nearly crumpled again with grief when she reached out a bandaged hand towards the package. Gaius sat back, not allowing her to touch it. “You can have this back Mirin, if you promise not to use your magic against us.” 

“We're here to help you, Mirin, we want to get you back home.” Gwen added. 

“Héahsæ?” she whispered, 

“Yes,” Merlin replied instantly, “Héahsæ. I'm going to take you there, but you can't use your magic against me. Do you understand?”

Mirin didn't respond, she could only glance between Gaius and Gwen with disbelief. Gaius caught Merlin's attention. He translated. Yet still the girl didn't move.

“Mirin, we want to help you get back home--” Gwen said, drawing her attention, “--but to do that you need to trust us. We aren't here to hurt you. You can trust us. You'll be safe, so long as you don't try to hurt us.”

Gaius nodded approvingly, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Mirin's eyes flicked to him while Merlin repeated what Gwen had said. “We know what's occurred to you,” Gaius said carefully, “and we want to get you back to your kind. I will give this back to you, if you will let us take you home. You have to trust us that we mean to take you there.” He waited as Merlin translated.

Mirin held Gaius' gaze steadily before her sight shifted to the package that he held in his lap. Merlin relaxed his grip on her, gently turning her enough to be able to look at him, disbelief still written on her face. Speaking to her in the old tongue he said gently, _“I was born with magic too, Mirin. I can keep you safe getting you home. You have to trust me to get you there.”_

For the first time, both Gaius and Merlin saw a spark of hope in her eyes. Gaius, looking sternly at Merlin for what he had just said in front of a non-comprehending Gwen, couldn't help but smile slightly at his audacity. Mirin's gaze flicked to him. “You must promise not to use your magic against us first, Mirin,” he re-emphasised.

Tears, of a different sort, appeared in her eyes when she lifted her arms, still hampered by Merlin's grip on her. She held her bandaged hands up in a pleading, supplicating way. She nodded her head. 

Gaius smiled gently at her and set the linen package in her hands.

For a moment, nobody moved or breathed. Mirin held the package, still staring at Gaius. Then she looked down at it. Tears of sheer relief began trickling down her face, her lip quivering as she stared at the package. Merlin could feel her trembling and worked to hide the wince her peculiar magic worked on him at its abrupt appearance.

Merlin released her when she curled the package to her chest, a choked sob of relief escaping her lips. He slid away from the bed, allowing Gwen to slip into his place. Mirin simply closed her eyes, exhausted beyond belief, clutching the package to her as if her very life depended on it. Gaius eased her onto her side, while Gwen rubbed her back, reaching up to dash tears away from her own eyes.

“Þance ðu,” Mirin whispered, “þance ðu, þance ðu,” she repeated.

“She's saying thank you,” Gaius murmured to Gwen while he carefully checked the wound on Mirin's head. “Let her rest for now, she's exhausted. She's going to need whatever strength we can give her to get out of Camelot safely.”

Gaius made to stand up and immediately dropped back onto the stool, letting out a groan of pain. He instantly grabbed at his hip, eyes screwed shut. 

Gwen looked at him in alarm, “Gaius?”

“It's nothing!” Gaius winced, trying to stand again as Merlin reached down and grabbed his arm.

“Nothing, hell! That second blast tonight knocked you flat on your back. By the morning you'll barely be able to stand,” Merlin admonished, pulling him to his feet.

“You were down there? Near that magical blast tonight?” Gwen exclaimed, alarmed.

“Leon was fetching me. Arthur got his nose broken during the first blast,” Gaius groaned when he stiffly stood upright. For several seconds he couldn't fully straighten, just clutching at his hip, and hanging onto the table. In a strained voice he added, “Obviously I was a little too close for comfort.”

Gwen looked at Mirin, “She did this?”

“If she thinks someone's after what's in that package, Mirin can project a, uh, erm,” Merlin scrambled for words. “Something like a shock wave,” Merlin replied, starting to prepare his pack.

Gwen bit her lip, glancing at Merlin and Gaius in confusion. “Um... what is in that package anyway?”

“Mirin,” Gaius groaned, finally straightening up. “Mirin is in that package. Well,” He paused thoughtfully. “The real Mirin anyway.”

“Whose to say what's more real? Herself now or the pelt in that package?” Merlin asked. Gaius fixed him with a glare. “What?” Merlin protested. “We've never met her as a seal, we've only known her as she is.”

“Remember what I said earlier about you two being infuriatingly vague?” Gwen interrupted, as she rose from the bed. “All I asked was what is in that package that is so important to her.”

“It's a fully intact seal skin,” Gaius replied. “Mirin's selkie skin. Once she gets back to the sea, she and the skin will reunite and she will return to being a seal.”

Gwen gazed at him sceptically for a moment, but then she lifted her chin in acceptance. “And how did this package end up in the relics vault here in Camelot? Who brought it? And how did she know how to find it?”

Gaius, wincing again at the pain coursing through his back, shook his head. “There are some questions about her we may never find an answer to, Gwen. Somehow the hold that whoever had on her, from the original capture of her skin, was broken and it must have restored a connection, a magical one at best, between Mirin and the skin. From there, who knows what happened.”

“Let's not forget she's a magical creature too,” Merlin added. “What is she capable of?”

“A very frightened, magical creature,” Gwen remarked, turning to look down at the girl in question. “And what do you intend on doing once you get her out of the lower town?”

“Head for the border,” Merlin replied, “Once I can, erm, borrow a horse from the stables. Get her out of town unseen, travel through King Odin's realm to the sea and then get back. Oh, and who knows how long this will take, and what am I going to tell Arthur to get leave to go?”

“You haven't really thought all this out have you?” Gwen asked, folding her arms and looking at him, pointedly.

“Things have happened a little suddenly!” Merlin rolled his eyes, continuing to pack.

“You really plan on stealing one of the horses from the stables?” She asked. 

“What difference does that make at this point? I'm also smuggling a fugitive set to be executed in a matter of hours, from under Uther's nose. It's _just_ an executable offense...” Merlin added sarcastically.

“And how is that going to be stopped?” Gwen asked, eyes growing enormous as she realized the implications. “You did say Uther planned on burning her dead or alive, did you not?”

“Already been dealt with,” Gaius replied. “Don't be alarmed at what occurs in the Square in the morning, Gwen. Trust me, nothing bad will be occurring.” He was pulling out of his bag what few medicines he had managed to scrounge from his chambers and adding them to Merlin's pack.

“If Uther is involved, it's bad,” Gwen replied.

“But what you may see is something that isn't quite what meets the eye,” Gaius said. “Trust me on this one, Gwen. It is not as bad as it will appear.”

“You're being vague again...” she said.

“With good reason.”

“Best not to ask, for safety's sake,” Merlin added.

“Speaking of safety's sake, do you really intend on going through Odin's realm by yourself?”

“It may actually be safer that way,” Merlin said. “Just Mirin and I traveling alone. It should help us to travel faster and make us unappealing to any thieves.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow in a curiously similar gesture that he was all to familiar with from Gaius. “You must be joking,” She said.

“What? I'm perfectly capable of traveling on my own, safely,” Merlin protested.

“On your own, maybe, but with an injured girl? Through a hostile realm? Have you even thought about what to pack for her?”

Merlin froze. 

Gwen raised her eyebrow again and smiled ever so triumphantly.

Merlin looked at her askance, “Erm...” he hesitated. 

Gwen shook her head and waved him aside from where he stood at her table. “I'll help you pack something up for her,” She said, gaining Merlin's smile of relief.

While the two bustled around the tiny home, packing, Gaius returned to his patient. He sat gingerly at the edge of the bed, gently resting the backs of his finger on Mirin's forehead. His suspicions that a fever was rising were confirmed and he checked on her wound.

Mirin's eye's fluttered open. “Dysig,” she murmured. 

Gaius nodded, unsurprised. “You took a hard blow to the head, child. You will feel dizzy, for a while. Lie still and rest, you need your strength for the journey ahead.”

“Wlæ?” she whispered, eyes closing wearily as Gaius set a hand near her head.

“Yes,” he replied, “You'll feel nauseated. If at any time you feel like you are going to be sick, you must let Merlin know. He's going to take care of you on the journey. You listen to everything he tells you.”

Mirin nodded silently while he prepared to rise from the bed. He set his free hand gently on her head. “Stay strong, Mirin, he will get you home again. Have faith...” he gazed at her, sadness and compassion in his tired eyes. “Think well about us, dear,” he said, knowing full well that he would never see her again.

Mirin barely moved, simply reaching up, and placing her small hand on top of his own where he had braced himself. Her eyes barely opened, and before he could think to pull away, she turned her head slightly to look at him. Those dark, fathomless eyes seemed to bore clear into the darkest recesses of his brain. A flash of gold sparked in her eyes while her fingers gently squeezed his own.

Scenes flooded his mind, people, pictures, emotions, rushing at him so fast that Gaius gasped in surprise.

Merlin and Gwen, standing at the table, both looked sharply in his direction.

“Gaius?” Gwen asked as Merlin frowned in alarm.

Gaius' back was to them, and he had sat up straighter, reaching up to place his other hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Merlin moved towards him, having felt the unexpected use of magic inside of himself, but when he approached, Gaius raised a hand to stop him.

“I'm all right!” he said in a shaky voice. “Just stay there.” His next gesture was curiously suspicious of wiping away tears from his eyes as his head bowed. “Please,” he said, more to Merlin than anyone. “Give me a moment.”

“Gaius?” Merlin asked perplexed, stopping just short of the bed. 

Gaius shook his head, drawing in a breath, then he leaned over and gently kissed the top of Mirin's head. “Þance ðu, Mirin,” he whispered, “Take care, my dear.”

He pushed himself away from her, standing up with a groan of pain, and turned towards the others. Merlin stood directly in front of him when Gaius turned, his face pale, and the track of tears clear on his aged, weathered face.

Merlin's expression of worry turned to alarm. “Gaius!” He implored, reaching out to help him.

Gaius raised his hands, stopping Merlin again. “I'm fine, Merlin...” he shook his head, still struggling to regain his composure while he reached over and picked up his medicine bag. “Trust me, I'm fine, she hasn't done anything wrong.”

“What did she do?” Merlin protested as Gaius headed for the door.

“It's all right, Merlin. Don't worry about me, just get her out of town safely. You don't have much time,” Gaius paused at the door, then turned and looked back at him. “Keep yourself safe, my boy. Come back home safe.” He re-emphasised and before they knew it, Gaius was out of the house in a flash.

Merlin and Gwen looked at one another is equal parts shock and bewilderment. Gaius never spoke of what it was Mirin had done.


	13. Chapter 13

**13.**

Morning had barely begun.

Gaius stood alone in the Square's courtyard, stoic, unmoving, hands clasped in front of him. His face set in an aged, severe, unsmiling mask, hiding the turbulent emotions roiling around inside of him. Before him the funeral pyre had fully caught, roaring upwards in its fury and concealing the tiny figure being immolated in it. His eyes never left the flames even though he could feel, far up on the upper balcony tier, Uther's own, intense gaze upon him.

Precisely at dawn, the regent and his guards had come to the physician's chambers. Gaius had met them without a word, standing by the tiny, shrouded, figure. Uther simply walked in, glanced at the linen wrapped body, then reached a gloved hand down and tore away the muslin wrap from the face of the corpse.

He glared at the girl's face, coins dislodged from the eyelids by his actions, then he looked unsympathetically at Gaius before standing away and nodding at his guards.

It was no execution. No drums announced severe judgment, nevertheless, guards were posted, a few people milled around, and the King attended the burning, pronouncing --once again-- that any one caught using or in possession of magic was to be executed. Even if dead, the offender was to be burnt and the ashes scattered so as not to be able, ever, to be resurrected again.

Gwen watched all this from Arthur's bedroom window.

She stood still, not fully understanding who was burning on the pyre, having helped Merlin get Mirin out of the lower town in the wee hours of the morning. She suspected that the body burning on the fire was actually the dying orphan she had helped Gaius tend to shortly before the child had died. How Gaius had arranged for what was occurring in the Square below was completely unknown to her, but in a small way she was secretly glad that Uther had not succeeded in rendering his ruthless, abhorrent, law upon an innocent person.

Gaius' lone figure, standing in silent defiance of the King, struck her to her heart and after a while she turned away, unable to watch the scene below as Gaius expertly hid, not only his personal grief and pain, but also the emotional departure of both Merlin, and strangely, of Mirin also.

Wondering again, what it was that Mirin had imparted to Gaius before he had left, Gwen moved over to tend to the latest patient under the old physician's care.

It was a rare opportunity, indeed, for Gwen to legitimately be alone with the Prince of the realm.

His left eye was swollen shut, his nose twice as large as it should be, the right eye blackening with a fearsome bruise, and the packs in his nose were crusted with dried blood. He still slept, and he didn't move when she took the damp clothe from off his eyes, an attempt to lower the swelling, and dipped it in the bowl of water at the bedside stand.

The sound of the water caused him to stir, and --while she set the cloth back over his eyes-- his hand reached over and gripped her wrist. Gwen froze. A frown creased Arthur's face when the slenderness of the wrist under his hand registered in his brain. 

“Guinevere?” He muttered.

“Yes...” she said gently, reaching down push his hand away, but then his grasp abruptly softened, loosening, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her wrist. Gwen laid her other hand on top of his own, stopping him.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled, trying to open his eyes. With his other hand he started to reach up to remove the cloth on his eyes.

“No...” she said softly, gently extricating her wrist from his hand. “Your eye is swollen shut, the cloth is helping to lower the swelling.”

He ignored her, reaching up to pull the cloth away and turned his head to see her better while he struggled to open his good eye. He stared at her for a long moment. Gwen gazed down at him, taking the cloth from his hand, and offered him a soft smile.

Um...” Arthur stammered, looking away and trying to rouse his fuzzy brain awake. “Where's Gaius, shouldn't he be here?”

“Gaius is,” Gwen paused, clutching the rag in her hands, “detained. He asked me to help him out until he can return.”

“Detained?” Arthur asked, confused. He tried not to frown, discovering that that was a painful reminder as to why he was lying in his bed with a throbbing face and muslin packs up his nose.

“Well,” Gwen started to wring the rag in her hand, looked down aghast at the water beginning to drip and bit her lip, hastily returning the cloth to the bowl. “Perhaps detained is too strong a word, perhaps occupied would be a better one?”

“Occupied how?” Arthur grumbled, reaching up to feel his face. Gwen's hands caught his and gently pulled them away. 

“Paying his respects to someone who has passed recently. A child,” she said. 

Arthur held onto her hands, his grip firm, but gentle, refusing to let hers go. 

“Arthur...” Gwen murmured, a low note of warning in her voice. 

“What?” he asked, struggling to wake up. “It's not every day I wake up to find you in here. Apparently alone?” He tried to raise an eyebrow, thought better of it, and sank back into the pillows, trying to focus on her with his good eye.

“In an honourable capacity I assure you,” Gwen murmured, gently tugging her hands free of his grasp. “You look as if you lost a fight with a mule, and Gaius wants those packs removed to see if the bleeding has stopped.”

Arthur, slightly affronted, blinked at her a moment, before noticing a hint of a smile on her face. He smiled ruefully. “I can imagine I do look quite a sight, if my face is saying anything.”

“It is rather dreadful.” Gwen caught her lip with her teeth, scrunching her shoulders, and nodding in agreement. “I can only imagine it hurts?”

Arthur drew in a breath, trying to hide the pain he was, in fact, feeling, and then he struggled to sit up.

She was there in an instant, helping to move the pillows quickly into place while he settled back with a sigh of relief, wondering why his shoulders and neck ached. He closed his eyes, only briefly, still feeling the effects of the poppy Gaius had dosed him with, before remembering that she was in the room with him. He forced his good eye open.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Whatever Gaius gave me last night knocked me out good.”

“You needed it,” Gwen replied, reaching out to tweak his blankets into place. “Broken noses are no fun to set, and besides...” she glanced at him, head dipping as she blushed. “You're not a morning person, you take forever to wake up.”

Arthur was about to ask her how she could possibly know that, remembered just who she was and settled for gazing balefully at her. He smirked ever so carefully.

“Would you like those out?” Gwen asked, indicating the packs in his nose. “Then maybe breakfast? I can have the guards send a message to the kitchens?”

“Guards?” Arthur muttered, struggling to put the pieces of the past 24 hours together. “Are there guards posted outside my room?”

“Uther's orders,” Gwen replied, reaching over to the small table besides the bed, picking up a small bowl. “Preventative measures, he says.”

“Against what?” Arthur grumbled while he tried to sit up even more. His head hung a moment, blonde hair falling into his face, barely suppressing a groan of pain. 

“You leaving the room,” she quickly replied. “You took rather a beating last night, Gaius wants you on bed rest for a while.”

“Where the heck would I go after the dose he gave me last night?” Arthur muttered while Gwen gently tipped his head back. She briefly paused, to carefully flick his hair out of his face. Gingerly, Arthur raised an eyebrow, gazing at her, a smile slowly stealing across his lips. Gwen gave him a friendly warning glance and prepared to remove the packs from his nose.

“Your father wasn't going to take any chances, considering all that happened.”

“What exactly has happened, and where is Merlin?” Arthur asked. He didn't see Gwen start. Instead,  
she carefully pinched one of the packs between her fingernails.

“This will be a bit uncomfortable,” she said, quickly. He looked at her with apprehension in his eyes as she began tugging at one of the packs in his nose. 

Arthur flinched when it slid warmly, distastefully, out of his nose. “That feels quite disgusting,” he said unable to avoid staring at what had just landed in the bowl. 

Gwen smiled tolerantly, “At least your nose isn't bleeding from that nostril,” she said and then she carefully removed the other pack. 

Arthur immediately sighed in relief while she paused, checking to see if the other side began bleeding. When nothing occurred, she set the bowl aside and handed him a damp cloth. He immediately began carefully wiping the crusted blood from his nostrils.

“There,” she said brightly, “that must feel better?” 

Arthur glanced at her, still busy with the cloth. “You're avoiding my question,” he said.

“What question?” She asked, suddenly busying herself with items on the bedside table.

“Gwen...” he rumbled. “What did he do? And where is he?”

“He has done nothing and he's...um,” Gwen paused, biting her lip and casting a sidelong glance at Arthur. “Unavailable.” She raised her eyebrows hopefully.

Arthur said nothing at first, holding the cloth under his nose, gazing long and steadily at her. Gwen shifted, uncomfortably.

“Unavailable?” he asked.

“Yes,” she instantly replied, smiling and held her hand out for the cloth.

Arthur looked at her for a moment, longer. “First Gaius is occupied and now Merlin is unavailable. What is going on, Guinevere?”

“What do you remember?” she shot back, taking the cloth from his hand.

“I don't remember...” Arthur started to reply then he stopped and the severity in his eyes gave Gwen plenty of warning.

Arthur watched her chin lift slightly in steely defiance.

“What child is Gaius paying his respects to?” he asked pointedly.

“I told you, one of the children from the orphanage died. He's been tending to her for nearly eight months now. A wasting disease took her.” Gwen replied.

“Gwen? It's starting to come back to me... this wasn't just an accident,” he waved his hand in the general direction of his face. “I saw Mirin use magic last night. That was the last thing I saw. She was stealing something from the relics vault. And now you're telling me Merlin is unavailable?” His tone was gaining a dangerous undercurrent. “By god I am going to have him thrown in the lowest parts of the dungeons if he's involved in this somehow.”

“Then you had better throw me in there with him,” Gwen shot back flatly.

Arthur stared at her a moment, shocked at the sudden sharp tone in her voice.

“Gwen, I just told you, Mirin is a witch! She did this, she used magic against me!”

“She's as much of a witch as I am,” Gwen replied, squaring her shoulders, dropping her hands to clenched them in front of her.

“You don't have magic, you're no witch!” Arthur scowled, then winced and reached down to flip the bed covers off him.

“And neither is Mirin.”

Arthur glared at her, flipping the blankets away, revealing his rumpled clothes from the night before as he swung his legs to the floor. “Gwen, I saw her using magic with my own eyes, after she had been in the locked relics vault and stolen something! How else could she have got in there if she wasn't a witch? By god, she's got to be found...”

“And then what? Executed?”

“We've had this conversation before, Gwen, you know damned well the laws of Camelot.” Arthur rose to his feet.

“Yes, I've been at the receiving end of that law, twice.” Gwen fired back. Arthur shot another glare in her direction. “Would you have me facing it for a third time?” She challenged.

“Gwen...”

“Don't you Gwen me, Arthur Pendragon. You've met Mirin, you saw how helpless that girl is. You even bought her a belt. Can you really find it in you to send that girl to her death? You don't even know the circumstances behind what has happened to her.”

“And I suppose you do!?” He protested, turning away, slapping his thigh in frustration. He gestured at his face again. “She did this, with magic!”

“As a matter of fact I do,” Gwen replied, not moving from her spot on the opposite side of the bed.

Arthur turned in her direction staring at her in surprise. “Guinevere, please tell me you aren't involved in some sort of conspiracy...”

Gwen stared at him, then she clenched the fabric of her dress in her fists and prepared to leave. 

“Wait, wait a minute! Where are you going?!”

Very softly, and sharply, she replied, “I will not stand here and be accused of crimes against this place by the likes of you. Not after everything that has happened to me here. I have faithfully served the Pendragon household for years now. Despite my own death sentence and the murder of my own father. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Arthur threw his arms up in despair, and as Gwen brushed past him on the way to the door, he reached out and took hold of her arm. “Wait, just a...”

She turned on him, lifting her arm up but not pulling away, “The Arthur I know conducts himself in a better manner than this. You, however, are acting more like a boor.”

“That is unfair, Guinevere!” Arthur protested, letting her go. She headed for the door. “You obviously know something I don't. All I know is that I caught Mirin down in the catacombs, after finding the gate unlocked. She had something in her arms and when I tried to stop her, she used magic against me.”

“She was defending herself the only way she knew how,” Gwen replied over her shoulder, reaching the door. She paused, hand on the handle.

“Gwen! Please!” Arthur protested. “What is going on? How can Mirin not be a witch?”

“Because she is a selkie, Arthur. She's a creature born of magic and she is a terribly long way from home.” Gwen looked at him. “She can't help being the way she is. All she wanted was her skin and to go home. And even now there is very little chance she will ever make it there.”

“A selkie? Skin? What?” Arthur asked, confusion all over his battered face. He abruptly sat down on his bed, shoulders sagging in defeat, he reached up to rub a hand along the back of his neck. “What the hell has happened?”

Gwen, lips pursed slightly in disapproval, studied him for a moment. “Gaius finally figured out who Mirin is. He saw the contents of the package that she had. It was a seal skin. More specifically it was her seal skin. Mirin only has magic when in possession of it.”

“A seal skin?” Arthur shook his head, still bewildered at the change in events. Gwen quickly explained the meaning behind a selkie and their skin. 

“Somehow that skin ended up here in Camelot and Mirin followed it here, being free of her master.” She said, “You saw her, she was dying. She's no better now. She was also injured in the attempt to keep anyone from taking what is her's. She tried to kill herself in the vaults last night, Arthur. That is how desperate she is. She would rather die than loose that package to another master.”

Arthur was staring at Gwen, trying to comprehend what she was telling him. “Gwen, my Father knows she used magic against me last night. He'll have her executed. You know that.”

“Then you need to help her get home.”

“How can I do that? I can't contravene the laws of Camelot.”

“You did for Morgana and Mordred,” Gwen instantly replied.

Arthur, reached up to run his hand down his face and stopped, realizing what he was about to do. He heaved a sigh and dropped his hand. His head hung, hair falling forward. “Gwen, I can't just arbitrarily go about bending or breaking the laws of the realm.”

“Oh I see,” she nodded her head slowly. “It's perfectly fine to do so when it involves your own family.”

Arthur pursed his lips, turning his head away to keep a retort in check. 

“The Arthur I knew had a great deal of compassion towards an injured boy and a grieving sister. Where is that compassion now for a dying girl just wanting to get home to her people? That same compassion that bought her a belt to wear?”

“Gwen, if my father finds her here in Camelot, he will execute her,” Arthur said with a sigh.

“Then he won't find her in Camelot.”

He glanced up at her sharply. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Mirin isn't in Camelot, at least not in the Citadel.”

“There where is she?”

“On her way home, which is somewhere near the Isle of Mora.”

Arthur looked at Gwen, eyebrows raised in surprise. He couldn't speak for several minutes as he stared. 

Gwen remained motionless, defiantly standing her ground. “Prove to me that the man I know with compassion still exists,” she said softly. 

Arthur sucked in air, about to say something then realization bloomed across his face. His shoulders sagged and he ruefully shook his head in disbelief.

“That idiot is taking her through Odin's realm by himself, isn't he?” Arthur blurted, rising suddenly from the bed. “That's what you meant by his being unavailable. Oh god, what a colossal imbecile he is!” He lurched forward, heading for his clothes cabinet. “You wait until I find that...” he came to an abrupt stop.

On the table near his changing screen, a blue shirt, dark leggings, small clothes, leather gauntlets, belt, his leather traveling jerkin, and his sheathed sword, lay neatly arranged. Under the table sat his boots. He slowly turned his head to look at Gwen.

She had the fingers of one hand clenched in the other and she had the corner of her lip held by her teeth. Very quickly she spoke. “Merlin is going to need your help getting her home, Arthur, if she doesn't die along the way. I took the liberty of setting things out for you. You'll also find your horse ready and waiting, already packed for the journey.”

“This has all been one giant set up...” he said. 

Gwen flashed a brief smile at him. “She's scared and alone, Arthur, just like Mordred, only very much worse. Mirin can't help being what she is. Selkies, according to Gaius, are harmless.”

Arthur pointed a finger at his face, raising his eyebrow.

“To a point,” Gwen added quickly. “She's no threat here, Arthur, you've seen her,” she reasoned, “just help Merlin to get her home.” 

Arthur braced his hands on the table, staring at the metal work on his jerkin. “And what do you propose I tell my Father why I'm leaving Camelot on a ridiculously dangerous and very foolish journey? Not to mention anything about a servant helping a known user of magic escape the Citadel. He could be executed for this!”

“Not if Uther doesn't know the real reason why you're leaving,” Gwen replied.

“What am I supposed to tell him? I'm not going to lie out right!” Arthur protested.

“Tell him your too embarrassed to be seen in the Citadel with that nose?” She asked, large dark eyes gazing pleadingly at him.

*

It took everything in Arthur's powers not to react as his father continued chuckling. “Son, for once I can honestly say I don't blame you. Have you seen yourself?”

Arthur just stood up straighter, pointedly ignoring everyone else in the room and keeping his eyes, at least the one he could open, directly on his father.

Uther waived a dismissing hand at him, still smiling at his son's expense. “Go on then, go hide for a few days while the swelling goes down. Oh, and you'll be glad to know that the witch who caused this is dead.”

“Dead?” Arthur barely managed to keep his voice from squeaking.

“Yes, died in Gaius' chambers overnight, head injuries. I had the body burnt this morning, no sense giving other magic users hope of resurrecting a body.”

“Of course...” Arthur replied keeping the thumb of one hand jammed under his belt while his other hand clenched the hilt of his sword.

“We still haven't discovered what it was she was after in the relic's vault, but you can handle that in a few days when you get back.”

“Yes, father, of course,” Arthur said. “With your leave, I'll get out of the Citadel then. Wouldn't want to frighten any more people....”

“With that swelling, you'll definitely frighten children,” Uther cracked, drawing a few chuckles from assembled noblemen around him. “I can only assume it's frightened Merlin already, haven't seen him around at all today.”

“That's because I sent him ahead to prepare a camp for us,” Arthur said quickly, fingering the hilt of his sword. Uther, eyes twinkling in bemusement, looked at his son --who could not hide the furious blush creeping up his face. Uther smirked at him and waved him off.

“Smart move, Arthur. Don't be gone too long.”

“Yes, father,” Arthur replied and spun on his heel, striding quickly from the room.

“Just you wait, Merlin...” Arthur growled under his breath. “I am so going to kill you for all of this!”


	14. Chapter 14

**14.**

Despite having to hold Mirin before him on the horse, Merlin made surprising speed from the moment they had left the lower town, to when he finally found a place near a creek to stop at for the night. He made sure he was carefully off the main trail leading south towards Odin's realm, still safely within Camelot's borders. Their journey went straight for the pass where the White Mountains joined the Isgard Range, halting deep in the forest, which grew thick and dark at the foothills of both mountain ranges. 

Sunlight slowly seeped away from the day when he dismounted, helping Mirin off the horse and settling her near where he would build the campfire for the night. He quickly built a small lean-to, draping it with boughs cut from the surrounding firs, to protect them both from inclement weather.

Mirin was limp with fatigue as Merlin checked her head, clutching her parcel to her chest. Perspiration beaded on her forehead from the low fever Gaius had warned them about. Somehow Merlin coaxed her into taking a few of Gaius' medicines before she finally drifted off into fitful sleep. 

Merlin started the fire, rigged up the cooking iron, and generally made camp. The forest seemed peaceful that late afternoon, the normal sounds quickly reasserting their place in the world while he went about with his work. For himself, Merlin had absolutely no fears for his safety, this far out in the forests of Camelot on his own, but he was concerned for Mirin's sake.

Highway robbers, bandits and any other kind of riff-raff where all too prevalent on the roads leading into and out of Camelot, despite regular patrols to find and stop them. After foraging, and starting, a small meal for the both of them, Merlin arose while the sun was going down and walked a careful circle around the camp. He paused at certain intervals, holding out his hand, and whispering a spell.

Returning to his starting point, he made a circular motion with his fingers. “Limplæce ond befæðme,” he murmured. He smiled as a thread thin line of brilliant blue light shot forth from the spot where he had begun walking and quickly encircled the entire camp, connecting at each spot he had cast a spell towards the ground. Only he could see the magical trip wire.

Assured that the spell was connected, he added, “Gescrencan,” and smiled in satisfaction.

It was simple, and extraordinarily effective.

Late, late into the night, Merlin, sleeping lightly, jerked awake, glancing over at Mirin. She hadn't been sleeping well, murmuring in the old tongue about the pain. At this moment, however, she was still. Something had nudged Merlin awake and he cautiously propped himself up on one elbow, listening carefully.

He didn't have long to wait.

He actually heard the gasp of surprise, before a large body crashed to the ground. In almost the same instant, Merlin heard a groan of pain when that same large body abruptly scrambled to its feet. Followed, in quick order, by the sound of a sword being pulled free of its scabbard. Merlin rolled his eyes, tracking the movement of staggering feet crashing through the scrub before he finally flipped his blankets aside and sat up, reaching for his boots.

“Whatever happened to the cat-like stealth and lightning-like reflexes of Camelot's finest warrior?” he asked out loud. “What I heard sounded like cattle trying to make a break for it.”

Arthur, hand to his nose, good eye squinting in pain, stumbled towards the camp's fringe, sword at the ready. “Did you just compare me to a bull?” he demanded angrily.

“Noooo,” Merlin said slowly, shaking his head, pulling a boot on. “I just compared you to the _cows.”_

“What the hell did I fall over?” Arthur snapped. 

“Your big feet?” Merlin asked, standing up, “If you'd like a few pointers on how to trip up certain irritating princes, I could teach you a few choice lessons.” 

Arthur frowned, opening his good eye in surprise while he looked down at his hand to see if his nose was bleeding. He turned quickly, sword still in hand. “What the hell was that supposed to mean?” he demanded, pointing the sword's tip at Merlin. 

“You'll figure it out,” Merlin replied, clapping a hand on Arthur's shoulder as he walked past him into the dark. 

“Perimeter defense against intruders,” Merlin's voice floated back to him in the dark, “School of hard knocks taught _me_ about letting _you_ get the drop on me in the middle of the night.” He returned, leading Arthur's horse to where his own was hobbled close by. As he passed Arthur, he slapped a long thin, flexible strand of wire into the prince's chest and continued walking past. 

“Intruders?” Arthur shot a glare at him, clutching awkwardly at the wire. “You were expecting me! What are you doing with a trip wire?” Arthur snapped. 

“Of course, I was expecting you. Had to know you were coming somehow,” Merlin replied dryly, beginning to loosen straps on Arthur's saddle. “Besides, how else am I going to catch game?” 

“Since when have you learned to set up a defense?” Arthur growled. 

“Oh please,” Merlin said, tugging Arthur's bedroll off the horse, “I've had the very best teacher available for _that!_ ” He walked by Arthur again and began laying out the prince's blankets. 

“Well, at least I've managed to teach you something!” Arthur grumbled, scowling at the sword in his hand, then he re-sheathed it. Unbuckling the sword belt, he clapped it against Merlin's chest, slapped the back of his head and went to sit down near the fire. He glanced into the small kettle, simmering over the low-banked embers. “And I am famished, after that hellacious ride. Just what the hell do you think you're doing anyway, Merlin?” He glanced over at Mirin. “There is any number of things that you've done in the past day or so that could earn you several weeks in the lowest part of the dungeons or multiple times being locked up in the stocks.” 

Merlin, casting an irritated glance at him, silently mimicked his last words while he laid the blankets out on the opposite side of the fire. Rising, he dug around in the camp gear he carried and produced a wooden bowl and spoon, before turning and facing his Prince. “I knew Mirin had to get out of Camelot and that you couldn't bear to have anyone see that face of yours the way it looks now. Hideous, I tell you! So, I got a head start for you...” Merlin replied, dishing up a bowl of the stew. 

He shot Arthur a cheeky grin as he handed the bowl and spoon over. “I didn't expect you to take so long catching up to little ol' me.” 

“It didn't take me that long!” Arthur glared at him, taking the bowl. “How hard is it to catch up to a pair of girls? You know, it's a good thing I didn't go to Father, about this, this... Mirin business,” he waved the spoon towards the lean-to. “For being a 'helpless' intruder, she's caused a lot of trouble and, not surprisingly, you're right in the thick of it.” He waved the spoon admonishingly at him. 

___“You were too embarrassed to hang around Camelot knowing that everyone would know by now that a girl broke your nose,” Merlin shot back. “Had to get out of town on a good excuse somehow. That lovely black eye you're sporting is as good an excuse as I've ever seen.”_ _ _

___“Somebody has to rescue a pair of damsels loose in the countryside, Merlin.” Arthur growled at him. “You'd better be damned glad it's me and not Father on a witch hunt.”_ _ _

___“Oh, I'm so blessed...” came Merlin's response. He had moved now, behind Arthur, tending to his horse. “So what was it Gwen said to you to convince you to help us out?”_ _ _

___Arthur nearly choked on the mouthful of food he was shoveling in, and half turned towards Merlin. “What makes you think Gwen said anything?”_ _ _

___“Oh, just us girls, having intuition about stuff...” Merlin airily waved a hand, “Why else would you be here? Besides hiding your face from everyone in Camelot?” Merlin dragged the saddle off and set it near his own._ _ _

___“Did it ever occur to you, Merlin, that I came out to rescue your sorry carcass from whatever romantic, noble, and wild notions you have inside that dense skull of yours? Did you really believe you can get this girl home again on your own?”_ _ _

___“Of course I can!” Merlin protested, finishing up hobbling Arthur's horse for the night._ _ _

___Arthur barked out a laugh, “You really are a dreamer, Merlin!”_ _ _

___“I can travel on my own just fine, thank you very much,” Merlin protested._ _ _

___“Out of sheer luck,” Arthur shot back. “It's a totally different story when you're traveling with someone else. It's amazing you haven't got the both of you killed getting this far.”_ _ _

___“Yes, well it's just as amazing you got here at all with your eyes swollen shut and having a nose as big as a gourd without running into a few things. I always knew this horse of yours was smarter than its rider,” Merlin replied, affectionately slapping the horse's neck._ _ _

___“And you really plan on going through Odin's land to get to the sea?” Arthur shook his head, “No, no, we'll head southwest for the ocean at Meredor, avoid Odin's lands all together. It's a hell of a lot safer, especially when traveling with...” Arthur frowned, waving a hand in Mirin's direction, “with who ever she is.”_ _ _

___“Now who's acting thick?” Merlin asked, reaching over and snagged the empty bowl away for Arthur. “Have you seen her? Really seen her?” He nodded at Mirin._ _ _

___“I wanted more of that!” Arthur protested._ _ _

___“She hasn't eaten yet...” Merlin replied, leaning over to snag the spoon away from him._ _ _

___“She's also asleep!” Arthur continued._ _ _

___“Not really,” Merlin replied, walking off with the dinner ware._ _ _

___“Hey wait! Where are you going with those? What do you mean she's not really asleep?” Arthur scrambled to his feet, turning to watch Merlin stalking off for the creek._ _ _

___“I'm going to wash the dishes, do you mind? Mirin's more unconscious at the moment than she is asleep. That's a bad head injury she's got, not to mention all the bruising from when the tunnel fell on her... there's also a risk of recurring pneumonia from breathing in all the dust from the cave-in. Shall I go on?”_ _ _

___Arthur balked in his footsteps and turned towards Mirin._ _ _

___“You also asked why Odin's realm? Who knows what she's going to be like when she gets back to the sea. If she's still suffering from that injury in her normal form, do you really think she can make it back to her kind after hundreds of miles of swimming? She needs to be closer to her home. Odin's realm is far closer then Meredor.”_ _ _

___“Her form?” Arthur asked, looking suspiciously at the girl._ _ _

___“I'm sure Gwen has told you by now...” Merlin's voice floated back to him with barely restrained patience._ _ _

___“Only that, that... package she _stole_ from the relic's vault contains a seal skin and that she's a selkie? What the hell does that exactly mean? All I really know for sure, Merlin, is that she practices magic.”_ _ _

___“She doesn't _practice_ anything of the kind,” Merlin replied from where he was washing up the dishes._ _ _

___Arthur pointed at his face, again. “The nose begs to differ, Merlin!” he snapped. “I saw her use it against me. What did she do? Bring down the tunnel wall on me?”_ _ _

___“Shock wave,” Merlin replied, emerging back in the light cast by the fire. He was shaking the water off the dishes. “Defense tactic. You tried to take what was hers. She stopped you from doing it.” Merlin paused and a smile slowly spread across his face, “And boy did she ever stop you...” his eyes lit up with unfeigned glee._ _ _

___“She stole that thing out of the relics vault! How'd she get in there in the first place?” He didn't see Merlin start with guilt. “Gwen said something that she only had magic when she's got it in her hands...” Arthur turned suddenly, and headed for Mirin._ _ _

___“Arthur,” Merlin's voice snapped. “Don't do it!”_ _ _

___“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?” Arthur demanded, leaning over Mirin as he prepared to flip the blankets off of her._ _ _

___“Take possession of that skin and she becomes bound to you,” Merlin replied instantly. “In everything. And I mean everything... She will be your personal slave, waiting on you hand and foot.”_ _ _

___“Jealous are we?” Arthur asked, pulling the blankets back. “Maybe she will be a better servant than you could ever hope to be? And she's mute, so she wouldn't be talking back to me all the time...”_ _ _

___“I also meant right into your bed as well,” Merlin said bluntly._ _ _

___Arthur froze, his hand mere inches from the package Mirin clutched in one arm. He glanced sharply at Merlin, suspecting another one of Merlin's scathing jibes. Merlin stood stock still opposite the fire, a deadly serious look on his own features._ _ _

___“What do you mean by that?” Arthur growled, not moving._ _ _

___“Exactly what it meant. Capture a selkie's skin and they become yours. They serve you, in every capacity. Including the bedchamber. They not only serve you, they bear your children and rear them for you. Pretty much a seaside version of an indentured concubine.”_ _ _

___“How the hell do you know all this?” Arthur demanded, slowly standing up straight with uneasy trepidation on his face, “She can't be more than, what, twelve - thirteen years old?”_ _ _

___“Gaius' bestiary has what little information we know about selkies. In the ocean they are seals, they can change to human form by shedding their skin; no one knows why. The island dwellers, particularly the men, seek for wives to bear them children and if they can't find one, they seek the skins of selkies. If they find one...” Merlin let his point stand, nodding his head at Mirin._ _ _

___He continued, “If the selkie finds their skin, however, they forsake everything to return to the sea, including their children. Some of the island lore says that the dark-haired folks are descendants of islander men and selkie women.”_ _ _

___“But she's no more than a child!” Arthur protested while the implications began sinking in. “Who would enslave a child for breeding purposes?” He paused, still seeing the look on Merlin's face._ _ _

___“Near as we have been able to learn, Gaius and I think that the man who originally captured Mirin's skin has died. Hence her being free to roam around. Gaius believes she is still connected to her skin, probably by magic. Somehow, some way, that skin ended up in the relics vault and Mirin followed it to Camelot.”_ _ _

___“And that skin gives her magic?”_ _ _

___“Not in the normal sense,” Merlin said cautiously._ _ _

___“You've implied that more than once, Merlin. What exactly do you mean, if she isn't a witch?”_ _ _

___“Only that she really isn't a witch, she's a creature of magic. Just like,” Merlin hesitated, inwardly hiding his own pain, “Like the Unicorn you encountered, Mirin was born a creature of magic. She can't help being the way she is. All along, the entire time she's been in Camelot, she's been telling us she just wants to go home. She can't go home unless she has that skin.”_ _ _

___Merlin sighed, and made his way to the lean-to, where he knelt next to the girl, tucking the blankets back in place. Arthur backed up._ _ _

___“When you tried to take the skin from her, all she did was defend herself. She probably never even uttered a spell,” Merlin said softly. “She wasn't attacking you. After you were knocked unconscious, Gaius and I found her in the catacombs. When we tried to stop her from running away, she deliberately brought the roof down on her self.”_ _ _

___“There were two of those blasts?!” Arthur exclaimed._ _ _

Merlin twisted, looking up at Arthur. “She tried to kill herself, rather than risk being captured, _again_. Yes, there were two blasts.” 

___“How did you get away from that unscathed?”_ _ _

___“I was further away, Gaius wasn't, and he didn't get away unscathed. He's hurting something fierce.”_ _ _

___“That blast, whatever it was you want to call it, was seriously powerful!” Arthur spun away, beginning an uneasy pacing while he wrestled with all the questions being churned up inside of himself. “Gaius got caught in it as well?”_ _ _

“Yes, he did. And he still treated you first, for that nose, then did what he could for her before he did anything for himself... _if_ he's done anything for himself.” Merlin added. 

___Arthur paused, thinking hard. “No wonder he wasn't there this morning,” he murmured. He frowned, “Where were you in all of this?!” he turned to face Merlin._ _ _

___“Oh, just making sure you didn't have any other broken bones, digging you out of that rubble pile you were buried under and getting it all off of you before trying to track her down. No big deal, just doing my job.” He checked Mirin for fever, frowning slightly. “Then I tended her while Gaius tended you. After that, I got her out of Camelot.”_ _ _

“You know, Father's convinced she's a witch.” 

“When isn't he convinced someone is a witch? Uther has this overwhelming tendency to...” he stopped, seeing the disapproval on Arthur's face. “Oh, what difference does it make? Right now, getting Mirin close to her home is what's important. And keeping her alive in the process.” 

“Well it's a good thing you have someone with the ability to see to it she can get there in one piece.” Arthur replied, smirking at the look of affront from Merlin. “Somebody has to hold off raiders and and Odin's guards while you play nurse.” 

“Nurse for two, you mean,” Merlin shot back. “I've quit counting how many times I've had to tend to your wounds, with all this marching around on patrols and knight training sessions, let's not forget all of your hunting accidents...” 

“Accidents?” Arthur protested. “What hunting accidents?” 


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

They travelled reasonably fast the next day, entering the lower foothills of the mountains.

Temperatures began dropping as the higher elevations felt the coming effects of Autumn sooner than the lower ones. Grateful for Gwen's thoughtfulness, Merlin was prepared, not only for himself, but for Mirin also. The following day, however, they were forced to stop early, very close now to the entrance of the pass.

The pain and nausea associated with her head wound had reduced Mirin's ability to endure the rigors of travel, and riding double, so Merlin had insisted they stop. Reluctantly at first, Arthur eventually agreed, leaving Merlin to attend a retching Mirin while he took his crossbow and went hunting.

By the time Arthur made his way back towards the camp, a fat black grouse in hand, Merlin had things set up. The fire was going, and he was helping Mirin to sit up, guiding a cup of something to her lips. As he approached, he frowned, and instinctively his footfall grew silent while he listened to Merlin murmuring to the girl. She was protesting whatever concoction Merlin was trying to get her to drink, but only feebly. He was also speaking in a different language.

Arthur listened intently to whatever it was that Merlin was saying to the girl. He stopped directly behind him. Merlin had focused on getting the last of the drink into Mirin, then helped to ease the girl back, all the while murmuring encouragement to her. He consequently jumped with a guilty start when the grouse suddenly landed on the ground beside him. He twisted around, looking up at Arthur in surprise.

“What..?” he started to ask, and immediately sensing something was up by the suspicion in Arthur's eyes.

“How long have we known each other?” Arthur asked, his eyes boring straight into Merlin's. 

“Erm, several years now?” Merlin replied, he cautiously turned away from him, reaching down to settle Mirin in.

“Since when, Merlin, during all that time, have you learned to speak a different language?” The prince eyed him suspiciously, cradling the crossbow in his arms.

“Known it since I was a toddler?” Merlin replied, twisting back around, facing the prince. “Village kid...?” His eyebrows rose in puzzled curiosity.

Arthur's lips pursed in disapproval, “And I'm just now learning that you can speak in another language?”

“You speak the common language normally enough... for the most part.” Merlin replied, reaching for the grouse. “Why would you need me to speak to you in a different one?”

Arthur scowled at him, “You know what I meant! Why haven't you ever let me know something like this? You could have been mista...”

Rising to his feet, Merlin cut him off, “Try and get that thick skull of yours to think for a minute. I study medicine with Gaius, Arthur!” He snorted slightly in amusement. “Most of his books on medicines are written in different languages, like Latin, the Old Tongue, even Greek. With having learned to speak the Old Tongue from the elders in my village and having to study it with Gaius, you pick it up. Mirin's just reinforced it, it's the only thing she can speak. And it's the only way I can get her to settle down. She's in a lot of pain.”

Arthur blinked in surprise at Merlin's logic. 

Merlin smirked at him. “I've never needed to speak anything different to you. You have a hard enough time understanding anything I say to you in the first place!”

“Hey!” Arthur protested as Merlin hefted the grouse. 

Merlin shot a cheeky grin his direction while he bent over the cooking items and hefted a knife. “Now if you want this thing cooked up proper, quit disturbing me and let me get on with cleaning it.”

He turned his back on Arthur, not letting the prince see the relief on his face while he headed off to do what needed to be done to prepare the grouse for dinner. He let his breath out slowly, approaching a small spring of water, knowing he'd been skating dangerously close to revealing his own particular secret. Not that that was anything new, but with Mirin being around it certainly brought the level of risk up much closer to the surface of things.

Later, after the sun had gone down, Arthur was still trying to process what he'd learned. He had stretched out on his side, head held up by his fist and was contemplating the flames while Merlin moved about the camp doing what he normally did, plus displaying what he had actually learned from Gaius. He had taken stock of what the old physician had packed for him, while making up something new from herbs, roots and bark he had gathered before the sun had gone down. Ever aware of Arthur's scrutiny, Merlin chose to ignore it and go on about his business.

Arthur reached up at one point to carefully feel around his broken nose, lost in his thoughts while letting the fire lulled him into a contemplative state. The swelling had gone down considerably allowing him to open his eye, while the bruising had become unfortunately rather more colourful. He was startled out of his reverie when a cup suddenly appeared in front of his face. He blinked and glanced up at Merlin standing over him, holding the cup.

“What's this?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Spiked wine,” Merlin replied. “Spiked in more ways than one. Saw you feeling around the break. Figured you were hurting. Go on, it won't kill you.” He urged Arthur to take the cup. 

Looking at him mistrustfully, Arthur reached up and took it from him, cautiously sniffing it. “Better not have anything poppy related in it,” Arthur muttered.

“And dull what remaining senses you have left?” Merlin replied, turning to go back to his side of the fire. “That's just what I need to deal with on top of her.” 

Arthur scowled, shooting a glare over the cup before he experimentally sipped at the contents. The wine was overpowering whatever Merlin had mixed with it. 

“You know, for being a bungling idiot, you're proving to have your uses, not to mention your surprises,” Arthur shot back, taking a stronger drink. 

“That nose must be hurting you. You almost paid me a compliment.”

“Oh come on...” Arthur retorted. “You surprised me, knowing another language. The only other language I'm aware of is usually associated with spells and magic.”

“And how aware of that one are you?” Merlin asked, checking Mirin for fever. “You should talk to the people in the lower town more often, Arthur, or speak to the villagers. A lot of the elderly farmers, and other workers, grew up in a different place and spoke in a variety of languages. Young people, especially the kids, absorbed the different tongues like sponges and could easily switch from one to another. It's how a lot of the elderly get along in their particular villages.”

A fond smile played on Merlin's lips for a brief moment. “Sometimes, in the evening's, they would tell folk tales from their homelands. Children loved to listen to them.” He tugged on Mirin's blanket, smoothing down a fold. “I bet, in her home, she could tell a few tales.”

“If a seal even talks...” Arthur replied. 

Merlin heaved a sigh, “A selkie, Arthur, not a seal. We know very little about them. Other than what is before our eyes.”

“And the sooner we get this one back to where she belongs, the better off we'll be.”

“You act like you want to be rid of her,” Merlin admonished gently.

“That's because we know nothing about her. It's not personal. Just how powerful is a selkie's magic, for instance? How dangerous can she be? All I know about is the shock wave end of things, as you put it.”

“There was something else too,” Merlin added, thoughtfully. “I think it might have been a form of communication. Before we left the Citadel, she did something to Gaius, showed him something, just by a touch. It shook him up pretty badly, but he refused to speak about it. Said he was fine. Then he urged me to make sure she gets back home. Been his focus all along really, getting her better and getting her home.”

Merlin looked at the girl, deep in thought. Being around her since she had regained possession of her skin, his own magic, on a subconscious level, had asserted its dominance. He knew hers was there still, strange and wild, but he no longer felt its peculiar effects on him. “I just hope we can keep her alive long enough to reach it.”

“That's what I intend to do. You keep her alive, and I will see to it we get as near Mora as we can. Barring any number of things that can happen to us along the way. You better hope Odin's men don't learn of my presence. Good thing I left all the ceremonial trappings back home.”

“That bruise around your face can scare a few people off as well...” Merlin added, before moving to his own blankets, settling down. 

“I can always give you a few to match,” Arthur shot back. 

Their banter died off slowly, the camp settling down for the night. The fire gradually reduced itself to glowing embers. It was during those small hours that something drug Merlin out of his sleep. He scowled, reaching up to grasp at his blanket, then heard something that snapped his eyes open.

Rolling over, he glanced towards Arthur, seeing he was still asleep, then glanced towards Mirin.

Hanging onto a nearby sapling, Mirin had stood up, clutching her package with her other arm. Even with the small tree for support, she was unsteady on her feet. Her gaze was fixed outward of the camp, towards the inky darkness. In the dying firelight, Merlin barely made out beads of perspiration on her forehead. 

He was on his feet in a flash.

“Mirin?” He asked in a hushed voice, trying not to wake Arthur. He approached her carefully. He was about to reach out and touch her when she turned to him, fear lurking in her eyes.

“Frécen!” she gasped, swaying. Merlin didn't even think twice. He gripped her forearms gently, steering her away from the tree, and guiding her past the recumbent form of Arthur. He nudged the prince with his foot, saying nothing.

The prince awoke with a start, blinked in consternation for a moment, then got the gist quickly that something was wrong. He rolled to his feet, a dagger appearing in one hand while he reached for his sword with the other. He looked towards Merlin, watching as he led Mirin away from the campfire.

“What is it?” Arthur hissed when Merlin rejoined him, having hid Mirin away. 

“She sensed something, out there...” Merlin nodded, grabbing the sword's sheath while Arthur tugged the blade free. 

The prince frowned in consternation, gripping sword and dagger. “What do you mean she sensed something?”

“She sensed danger...” Merlin hissed back, following Arthur as the prince headed towards the direction that Merlin had indicated.

“She's also been half delirious for two days now!” Arthur hissed. “This better not be some sort of false alarm, I was rather enjoying the sleep!”

“I'm not going to argue against the instincts of a magical creature, even if they were fully delirious.” Merlin shot back and froze.

Somewhere in the inky darkness ahead, they could hear the muffled sounds of horses. Without even a second thought, both men immediately went silent, listening intently. Arthur paused, quietly slipping his dagger away and held up four fingers for Merlin to see.

Wordlessly they approached the source of the sounds, realizing that they were nearing the roadway that they had been on earlier. The trees above them thinned out, allowing a better view of the road in the night as Arthur halted them near the road's embankment. The stars, thick above them, cast a faint blueish light, highlighting bits of metal on man and beast.

The horses, four of them, were moving at a very slow walk, and while the two men waited, it became apparent why. The horses were being lead. Four men on foot, one at the head of each horse, were walking in single file along the road. Two to a side and it seemed to Arthur and Merlin, that despite the darkness, they were looking for something. 

Arthur was heartily glad Merlin had thought to erase their tracks going off the road to their camp site and that they had a thick stand of trees between them and the road. Together they watched as the men stopped, bunching together to talk in hushed tones.

“His tracks have merged into all the other tracks on this path, there's no way tell now where he could have turned off the road.”

“Or he may not have come this way at all.”

“I'm telling you, I know he came this way! My people saw Arthur leaving Camelot two days ago. Heading this way.”

“Why this way?”

“He regularly rides patrols all over Camelot. The difference this time is that he rode out alone and with no security whatsoever. He wasn't even wearing his armour. That smells of a mission or a quest, take your pick.”

“Where would he go? The only places worth a quest this way is Gedref's Labyrinth or Odin's realm.”

“We know he's been to the labyrinth before so I highly doubt he's going that way. Odin's realm then, but why alone?”

“Uther must have something up his sleeve to send Arthur out like this.”

“And that smells of espionage. Odin will dearly love to hear this.”

“Just so long as he pays well for the information.”

Merlin very nearly groaned out loud, but a scowl from Arthur stopped him while they continued watching and listening to the four men. They milled around a moment longer, debating on a course of action before continuing on, each one returning to their search pattern making their way up the road.

Arthur and Merlin waited until they were long out of sight and sound before Arthur silently led them back to the camp. Without a word, Merlin headed past their own horses and was gone some minutes, long enough to annoy Arthur, who was pacing a trail near the low burning coals of their campfire.

He heard Merlin returning, talking in a low hushed voice to Mirin who was replying in a voice that sounded pained. Entering the fire light, Arthur turned, seeing Merlin guiding Mirin along, who was clutching a fistful of her hair near her wound and was shockingly pale.

“What took so long?” Arthur hissed. 

“She's frightened,” Merlin replied, steering Mirin towards her blankets. “And hurting. She was trying to hide.”

“She should be!” Arthur growled, continuing his pacing. 

“I think she might know who they are...” Merlin added. Coaxing the girl to at least sit down before she fell over.

Arthur spun, glancing sharply at Merlin before shifting his gaze to Mirin. He was standing before her in three strides, kneeling, as Merlin looked at him in consternation. 

“Know how?” Arthur demanded. 

“C'mon Arthur, not now...” Merlin started, trying to insert himself between Mirin and the prince. 

“How could she know them? She wasn't out there to see them, you said she sensed danger, but how could she? She's been in the camp all this time.”

Merlin was about to protest when Arthur reached over to take Mirin's chin in his hand to force her attention, but her hand came up and gripped his first.

Rarely did Merlin ever get to see the physical aspect of magic revealing itself through the eyes of the wielder, but there it was, a coalescing, whirling, pyre of gold flames flashing momentarily through the iris of Mirin's black eyes. One part of him thrilled at the sight while the other part registered the gasp of shock coming from the person on the receiving end of it.

“Arthur!” Merlin looked at the prince, who had abruptly pushed back from them both, one hand behind him to keep himself from falling into the fire. His eyes were huge with surprise and shock.

“It's all right, it's all right!” Arthur suddenly stammered, holding up his hand to stop Merlin. He was staring at Mirin in a wholly different light.

To Merlin's surprise it wasn't in revulsion and horror. 

Arthur pushed himself back up, still reeling with whatever it was Mirin had done to him. He leaned forward again, looking at her in all due severity.

“Is this true?” he asked reaching up to tap the side of his head, “Everything?”

“What happened?” Merlin demanded. “What did she do?”

Arthur glanced briefly at him, “Those men the road? She knows of them all right. She's seen them before.”

“Arthur, what did she do?”

“I don't know, but she showed me that she's seen them before... she's had to hide from them before. Showed it to me, like, like pictures or memories...” Arthur reached up, running his hand into into his hair. “Is this true Mirin? Is this what you've seen?” he asked her again.

Mirin, utterly drained, nodded. “Þá sóþsegen,” she sighed, her head dropping. “Ic slæpwérig...”

Arthur looked confused.

“It's the truth, she says, and she's exhausted,” Merlin translated. “That's the second time she's done that, whatever form of communication she's doing there, and its left her weaker for the effort again. She's already not doing very well.” Merlin tilted her head, trying to see into her eyes. “I think each time she uses her magic, it's leaving her weaker and weaker.”

“You really have been wandering about a lot on your own haven't you?” Arthur asked suddenly, in sympathy. He glanced at Merlin. “What you and Gaius have been saying about her is right. One of those men in that group is a known spy for Odin, we've had him watched for months now. What she just showed me, for lack of a better way to explain it, is that he's been up and down this road for months and she's had to hide from them to keep herself free while she made her way to Camelot.”

“But no idea how she came to be free from whoever took her skin to begin with?” Merlin asked. He felt Mirin shift and he twisted around, helping her to lie back down. She curled around the package that had not once left her possession. 

“What's troubling me now is that he knows that I'm out here on my own and heading for Odin's realm,” Arthur said, unconsciously reaching over to grab Mirin's blanket as Merlin settled her down.  
“And that they are actively searching for me.”

“Good thing they don't know you have back up then!” Merlin quipped. 

Arthur barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “That's not exactly comforting.” He stood up, turning towards the embers, still trying to process what Mirin had shown him. “With her being in the state she's in, we can't detour around. We have to head straight for the Isle. Maybe we can convince them that I'm heading for Odin's castle instead of to his coast.” He lapsed into musing, folding his arms thoughtfully.

“In anything we do, we need to move slow,” Merlin pointed out, “She's not going to be able to take much more.”

“And that leaves us open to more trouble.” Arthur heaved a sigh. He glanced sharply at Merlin as he rose. He held a hand up. “Remind me why I am doing this again?”

“Because doing the right thing, even for a being with magic, is what you're good at,” Merlin said without a hint of mirth about him. “When you do become king, people will know that you will do what's right, by remembering something like this.”

Arthur studied him a moment, “Let's just hope I survive it long enough to actually become king!”

“Well, that's what you got me for!”


	16. Chapter 16

**16.**

Merlin found himself on the horns of a dilemma when Arthur insisted, for a few hours anyway, that they separate as they made their way out of the mountains and approached the border to Odin's realm. So acutely in tune with his role in Arthur's life, he adamantly objected to them being apart in an enemy's domain, but with Mirin's situation, he reluctantly had to agree with Arthur.

Arthur’s plan was to split up with himself laying a false trail. Any followers would be lead in one direction towards the peninsula and Odin's castle, heading west. Then Arthur would circle back around to rejoin Merlin who was to continue south for the coast nearest the Isle of Mora. Merlin had been reduced to walking, leading his horse with Mirin on it. 

It proved to be an anxious day. It seemed with each mile Merlin managed to gain, Mirin grew weaker. Grey with fatigue, she barely clung to the saddle, eyes glinting in pain until it reach a point where Merlin was having to keep a hand on her to keep her in place.

The only advantage Merlin had was the fact that, on his own, he could use his magic for advanced notice if anyone was coming. Which proved useful several times during that long trek. He had had to get them both off the road --and hidden-- while travelers, patrols, and riff-raff came and went. 

By the end of that day, he was hugely relieved to find that Arthur had arrived at their prearrange rendezvous point before them.

And so the cat and mouse game went. They inched ever closer to the coast, traveling slower and slower, avoiding more people as they went. Arthur couldn't help but notice the double strain on Merlin, taxed both with watching out for the prince and watching over Mirin. Try as he might, Arthur had never had been able to convince Merlin that he was fine taking care for himself.

Trouble dawned when they came to within a days ride of the coast. 

Merlin had finally dropped off into a troubled sleep, having sat next to a semi-lucid Mirin most of the night. She struggled weakly with a fever and had refused food for the past two days. In the very early hours just before dawn, Arthur --seizing his chance-- had slipped out of camp, finding a vantage point near the road to do what reconnaissance he could.

He suspected that once Odin's man reported to the castle that he had been heading south over the mountain's pass, that Odin would increase the patrols. His 'not appearing' near Odin's castle would create an agitated ant's nest of activity within days. The country would be swarming with patrols, and any mercenary, highway robber and opportunist would be searching for Arthur's head anywhere in the kingdom.

Arthur's assumptions were proven right. He remained hidden in the thick under-brush in that pre-dawn morning, and watched while two patrols and a band of very suspicious looking travellers passed by their camp. He could catch enough of their conversations to know that he was a very wanted man at the moment, the monetary price on his head alone kept growing with the telling.

Light from the rising sun began changing the colour of the eastern sky, when Arthur came to a decision. Soundlessly he slipped away from the roadside and made his way back. No fires had been lit since they had entered Odin's kingdom, there simply was too much risk. Arthur glanced towards Merlin, both he and Mirin were actually asleep.

Quietly, Arthur began gathering his own things together. Part of him kept a sharp ear out for Merlin, who would inevitably begin to wake up. One thing Arthur had learned over the years when traveling with Merlin was that he could be near total exhaustion, but still be sensitive as a cat when it came to sleep.

Sure enough, Arthur had settled a saddle blanket into place, tugging it up to the horse's withers, when he hear that first small groan, then the faint rustling of the blankets. Arthur could easily picture the frown on Merlin's face before he twitched, sensing something was off, then his eyes would struggle to open.

Arthur turned, glancing towards Merlin, seeing his look of consternation and confusion, while he leaned down to pick up a saddle. Merlin had shoved the blankets away, when Arthur lifted the saddle up off the ground. The jingle of metal and creaking leather snapped Merlin's head around to look at him. Arthur tried to hide the slight smile on his face, hefting the saddle onto the horse. Merlin's ability to come to awareness was like lightning. Arthur braced himself mentally, shifting the saddle into position while he listened to Merlin scrambling to his feet.

“What?” Merlin asked, blinking the sleep away and running a hand through his already scruffy, black hair. “What're you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Arthur slowly drawled, reaching under the horse for the saddle strap.

“Like your saddling the horse... _my_ horse.” Merlin stepped closer, about to nudge the prince out of the way. Arthur shot him a warning glance. 

“Yes, and while I am saddling your horse, might I suggest you get Mirin up and ready to move? We're close now, if you test the air you can smell a tang to it. Winds are coming from the coast. We are definitely close.” He shot another glance at Merlin, cinching the strap down. He might call Merlin an idiot a lot, but one thing he secretly appreciated about the man was his ability to connect the dots very quickly. He drew in a steadying breath.

“What are you up too?” Merlin asked suspiciously.

“Saddling your horse. Getting prepared to break camp. You'd better get her ready,” Arthur replied.

Merlin's hand abruptly clamped down on the ring of the cinch strap, stopping Arthur from knotting the strap down.

“You're up to something, what is it?” Merlin urged quietly, his dark eyes challenging Arthur's.

Arthur squared his shoulders, reaching up a gloved hand to remove Merlin's hand from his work. “This country is crawling with patrols now. Two have passed by in the last hour or so. If you're going to get Mirin to the coast, you need to move soon. Especially with bad weather coming up. Skies are red to the east. You know what that means.” 

Those dark blue eyes instantly narrowed in suspicion as Arthur made the cinch loop and tightened it down.

“You're planning to split up again,” Merlin accused.

“What ever gives you that idea?” Arthur asked drily, giving the saddle one last test to make sure all was well.

“You're use of singular pronouns,” Merlin cracked instantly. “You can't be serious! We're deep in Odin's country, it's insidiously dangerous for you to be on your own out here!”

“Merlin,” Arthur said. “Go get her ready. We have one chance to get her to her home and in order to do it we _have_ to split up. One of us has to get her to the sea and it can't be me. If I take her, Odin's people will go after both of us and then what would we have accomplished? If you take her, I can distracted them from you. You have the opportunity to get her home. They won't notice you, they'll want me.”

“They want you dead!” Merlin hissed as Arthur turned away, reaching for his own saddle blanket. Merlin snagged it from his fingers, folding it over his arm, pulling it away. Arthur just looked at him, and snapped his fingers, holding his hand out for it.

“Get the sand out of your ears, Merlin. Wake up and listen to what I'm telling you. We have to split up. It's the only way we're going to get her home. I can't do it at this stage. It has to be you. I have to lead them off.”

“And you aren't listening to me!” Merlin countered. “You're the heir to Camelot, leaving you alone in an enemy realm is suicide, for both of us! We have to stick together, for your safety's sake and don't you dare go telling me you can take care of yourself just fine!” Merlin pointed an admonishing finger at the prince, twisting away, refusing to let him have the saddle blanket.

“I never listen to you, Merlin!” Arthur shot back. “And you aren't doing what you're told.”

“And how many times have I had to save your carcase because you haven't listened to me? Splitting up now is absolutely the wrong thing to do! We have to stick together for all our sakes. Especially yours!”

“Don't you even think about bringing up that tired, old, 'protecting me' argument again, Merlin,” Arthur snapped, and snatched the saddle pad out of Merlin's arm. He shouldered his way past him to his own horse. “How many times have I had to save your hide in the past?”

“Tired, old...” Merlin sputtered in indignation. “If you weren't such a turnip-headed...”

“Merlin,” Arthur growled, dropping the saddle pad into place. “I'm still your Prince.”

“And a stubborn imbecile of one. How many times now has Odin tried to kill you? We have to stick together to keep us all alive. Besides, if we split up now, where the hell are we supposed to meet back up? It's insane, Arthur! What are the chances of one or both of us getting caught anyway? We can't do this. We have to stick together for protection.”

“Merlin, we can't,” Arthur said with finality. “If Mirin wasn't with us, I'd stay together. But look at her. She's almost beyond us. The fastest way to resolve this is to get the two of you on the road for the sea as fast as you can possibly ride. While you head that way, I will draw off any patrols or huntsmen from paying any mind to you.” He raised his hand, trying to forestall Merlin, who was shaking his head in denial. A storm was brewing in his dark eyes. Arthur sighed wearily.

“I know, Merlin, I know, but think of Mirin. Of any of us here right now it's you she needs help from. I can do nothing for her. I'm a liability here, a huge, royal, liability. You, at least, can blend into the background long enough to do what needs to be done. Think about it a moment? The whole purpose of this ridiculously dangerous trip was to get her home. We're almost there and splitting up is the only way we can logically succeed at doing it.”

Arthur heaved a sigh, turning to reach for his saddle that Merlin was about to snag from him. He looked at him a moment in consternation, then dropped his shoulders and allowed him to pick it up. “I've had quite a bit of time to think about this, Merlin. We're on the main north-south road through Odin's realm. About four or five more hours ride, it will split off to become the coastal road. We will ride together that far. We'll reach the sea cliffs first, but the coastal road goes steadily down to reach sea level. There's a creek there and a small flatlands. You should be able to get out onto the beach from there. Once we reach the cliffs, if anyone is following us, we'll split up.”

“How the hell do you know the layout of Odin's realm so well?” Merlin asked testily, pulling the saddle away, then he turned and hefted it onto the other horse's back. 

“I haven't always been stuck in Camelot. Father and I toured here a few times when I was a child. You know, royal visits, treaty meetings, that sort of stuff. Well before Odin's son challenged me to that duel.” Wistfulness fleetingly appeared on Arthur's face. “Father and Odin were forever trying to work out trade agreements and treaties. It all came to a halt with that damn challenge.”

“I still don't like this,” Merlin said, saddling Arthur's horse. “We're far safer together. At least that way I can protect your back.”

“But how can you do that, Merlin, trying to care for her?” He nodded at Mirin. “She's barely able to sit a horse now. You're going to have to keep her on. You can't do two things at once. I know your heart and your loyalty on this Merlin, but this time you have to listen to me. If we are to save her life, we have to split up. It's the only reasonable outcome to this situation.”

Merlin had paused, gazing down at his hands, cinching the girth strap into place. Arthur knew he was finally getting through to him and inwardly sighed relief. “We'll stay together as long as possible. If no one is following us, I can stick with the two of you, but once we reach the cliffs I have to split away.”

“And once I get her to the sea, what then?” Merlin grumbled.

“Try and avoid getting yourself caught by the patrols!” Arthur quipped, dropping a reassuring hand on Merlin's shoulder. “It will be easier for me to catch up with you. I know the terrain a little better. Start heading back for the north-south road. I can catch up with you there.”

* 

Barely a word was spoken after that. Camp was broken up quickly. Merlin had a struggle getting Mirin lucid enough to sit up and when it finally came for them to depart, Merlin had to get on his horse first, with Arthur lifting Mirin up to him. Merlin wrapped a blanket around her, package and all, as Arthur helped to get her settled into place. Her face was grey and she barely held her head up.

Breezes stirred the trees around them, the precursors to the winds of a storm beginning to brew, and while Merlin gathered the horse's reins, Mirin roused, breathing in and frowning through her pain.

“Sæ?” She whispered, catching both their attention. She hadn't spoke coherently for days.

“Yes...” Merlin murmured in the old tongue. “ _Close now, very close. Just hang on._ ”

“You're almost home now, Mirin,” Arthur said to her. “Stay with us a little longer.”

“Héahsæ?” 

“Yes,” Merlin held her close with his free arm, threaded the reigns into his hands, and glanced at Arthur. “Four or five hours ride? It's going to be rough on her.”

“It's the only chance we've got,” Arthur said and expertly pulled himself up into his saddle. He gathered his reins together, turning his horse towards the road. “Let's just hope that we can avoid the patrols.”

Arthur had insisted on riding a little ahead of them, making sure that the roads were clear and allowing, in short stretches, for Merlin to ride at a slower pace. But the need for haste was heavy upon them, breaking the horses into gallops where they could. The one saving grace on Merlin's part was Mirin gaining some awareness as the forest air changed about them, gaining the salty tang of the sea as they drew closer to the coast. She was able, barely, to cling to his arm and the pommel of the saddle.

Merlin had thought that the trees and undergrowth would thin out, but to his surprise it got even thicker, with moss forming lush green covers on the landward sides of the trees which were also growing unimaginably bigger. Ferns and brush grew dense and heavy, right up to the roadway itself. There was very little in the way of places to get off the track. The road wound steadily upwards, gaining altitude rather than dropping down.

At first he didn't noticed when they were getting closer to the ocean. The day was grey at best, no sunshine, and soft showers erupting intermittently only to later taper off. The breezes vanished, replaced with a stiff, steady, warm wind. It was Mirin stirring, trying to lift her head that warned him something was up. Merlin cast a glance around. Above them, he could hear birds, and realized they were gulls. Ahead of them, the trees thinned out on his right and as they followed the trail up Merlin suddenly got a good view to the south and reigned his horse to a stop.

They were very high up and, barely a stones throw to his right, the land abruptly vanished, dropping off in a sheer cliff. As far as his eye could see, the great grey expanse of the ocean spread out. He felt Mirin move, glancing down at her when she tried to lift her head, whimpering in pain, clinging to the saddle and his arm.

“Sæ,” he murmured to her, staring in awe. He could barely hear the crash of surf over the sound of the wind and he gazed on in wonder. The gulls, effortlessly gliding and surfing the air currents with barely a flick of their wings, wheeled and spun around him, their cries snatched away quickly by the wind. Far to the left of the cliffs he could see where the trees thinned out all together, revealing a grassy sward and the road where it traveled uphill then split off, leading to a crest and vanishing as it dropped down the other side. The other part disappeared into the trees.

While he stared, he heard the sounds of a horse galloping up the road behind him and he quickly reined away from the vantage point. Arthur had dropped back, sure that the road before of them was clear and deciding they needed to make sure that nobody was following them from behind. He had also wanted to try and erase some of their tracks if were possible.

From the sounds of it, it wasn’t to be. Merlin urged his horse forward, taking up the right side of the track and glanced back in time to see Arthur gaining on him.

“No time for sight seeing, Merlin!” Arthur said in passing as Merlin's horse tried to keep up with his. “Company's coming!”

It was inevitable, during that long hard ride, that their luck would eventually run out.


	17. Chapter 17

**17.**

Together the two horses raced for the junction.

Normally, Merlin's dark little horse could easily pull ahead of Arthur's, but with a double burden on its back it began dropping behind. Mirin had let out a mewl of protest at the sudden jarring. She found herself clawing to hang on when the two horses abruptly split apart. Arthur's grey flashed forward., thundering up the road, quickly vanishing into the trees. Merlin's bay swerved right at his urging, crested the rise, and plunged down the road leading to the beach.

He hunched over Mirin, holding her tight and glanced skyward. Enemy patrol's be damned, if he had his way, no one was going to be following Arthur. If he was going to have to split up from Arthur, he was going to help protect the prince the only way he knew how...

“Regnian!” he ordered, and felt the magic within him obey.

Immediately it began to rain, and not a gentle little shower. High above them, the thin, wispy grey clouds grew ominously darker and thicker. Piling up and bunching together. The showers turned to rain. A deluge of water swept over them. Followed by another, then another, sweeping in sheets inland as they came. Merlin and Mirin were soaked in seconds, but he knew that the road behind them would be washed free of tracks from the horses. Especially in Arthur's case.

Behind him he could barely make out the neighing of horses and Merlin knew, between the rain and the fact Arthur was riding under cover of trees, any pursuers wouldn't be following the prince... they'd be following him.

Grimly Merlin held on, his horse aiming for the level grassy plain at the bottom of the hill. Through the sheets of rain he could see the beach, a tiny one, surrounded by a crescent of rocks, one point of which jutted far into the water. He was minutes away from it, his horse slipping on the track while the rain did its job.

With the traveling, the sudden jostling, the speed and the failing of her strength, Mirin's stamina finally gave way. She was clinging to Merlin's arm and the package, crushed between her and the saddle, finally worked itself loose. 

Mirin let out a panicked cry, shifting in Merlin's grasp, throwing an arm out, grabbing for the package as it tumbled abruptly away. Merlin, trying to control the horse and hang into her, felt the horse slip in the mud. It swerved onto the grass, reaching the creek at the bottom of the road and instantly gathered itself together. Completely unprepared for a jumping horse, Merlin and Mirin were thrown off. They crashed onto the turf. The horse bolted, continuing across the sward and up the opposite rise.

Merlin felt a blinding flash, rolling to a stop and shook his head, forcing awareness back. He frantically searched around for Mirin and glanced up the way they had come. There were riders cresting the hill where the roadway split and they had spotted him. Smiling grimly, Merlin shoved himself upright, amazed he wasn't injured and spotted Mirin's package. 

“Mirin!” he shouted, searching around. He spotted her crumpled form not far from where he had fallen. Hearing the shouts of the party on the hill, he scrambled towards her then abruptly switched gears. He dashed for the package, snatching it up and ran to Mirin's side. She was completely unconscious, blood streaming from her nose.

Merlin glanced up as the party on the hill began urging their horses to a gallop after him. He couldn't tell how many there were. Frantic now, Merlin stood up, jerking the knot of his belt loose. He pulled the belt's loop wider, yanking it up to his neck and ducked his head and shoulder under it. He hugged Mirin's package to his chest, jerking the belt tight over it and reworked the knot. Once secured, he grabbed Mirin's arm, pulling the girl up and threw her over his shoulder.

Straightening under his burden, he heard her groan, as he made his way towards the nearest part of the beach; the jetty of rocks. Teetering under the weight, Merlin searched for anything he might be able to use to hurl at his pursuers. He began stumbling, trying to stay upright with Mirin across his shoulder as he moved from rock to rock, working to get further out towards the water.

It was then he heard a familiar battle cry. He jerked his head around in alarm, trying to balance himself, and an utterly limp Mirin, on two boulders.

From out the trees, Arthur had emerged, his horse aiming for the back of the patrol riding down the hill after Merlin. Arthur's sword was up and out, flashing despite the rain. His horse, a battle trained charger, crashed into the first horse it reached and the melee was on.

Frozen where he was, Merlin teetered when Mirin stirred and he was forced to swing her off his shoulder. She slid into his arms while he scooped for her legs, having to stumbled further out onto the jetty to keep from dropping her onto the rocks under them. He searched again, trying to see the nearest place where he could reach the water and realized he was going to have to get out to the end of the rocks. 

He looked back around. Arthur was fully engaged in combat, several members of the patrol trying to turn their horses around in the slippery track to meet him, while the majority of the patrol continued barreling his way. Merlin awkwardly jumped from rock to rock. At one point he slipped, coming down hard on one knee and nearly dropping Mirin. The rain had made the rocks slippery from the sheets of water still falling all around him. Worse, working his way closer to the end, the seaweed and wrack and barnacles were making his footing all that much more treacherous.

Approaching the end, the water all around them no longer broke in small waves as it rolled up towards the sandy beach. Instead it rose and fell steadily, like a giant breathing thing. The slap and suck of the water around the rocks drowning out the shouts of battle behind him. Ahead of him, strangely, seagulls were congregating, wheeling and crying eerily in the heavy rain. He picked his way carefully down, the water rising up to meet him. He glanced back.

Arthur, still on horseback, was fiercely attacking one of the patrolmen still mounted on his own horse. Several others -dead and wounded- where on the ground and the rest were clambering off their horses at the foot of the creek, drawing their swords, and getting ready to go after Merlin.

Merlin turned his back on them, gently swinging Mirin's feet to the rock that he stood on and held her upright. Her head lolled back, the blood still seeping from her nose. Waves lapped at her feet and she gave a sudden start, gasping, her eye's widening and she grabbed his arm for support. Her other hand began clawing at the package strapped to his chest.

“Hang on!” Merlin protested as she pulled at the twine binding the package together. Merlin struggled to keep them both from falling onto the rocks. “Mirin! Hang on!” As the wrapping came free, Mirin grabbed the seal skin with one hand. Shouting behind them caused Merlin to look back in alarm. The patrol men were clambering out onto the rocks. Merlin realized he had to act, and he had to do it fast.

He flung his hand out, fingers spread towards the waves, and he tapped unerringly, instinctively, into that part of him that connected him with the magic that bound the world together.

“Folgie min bebeod! Uppen! Egewielme!” He hissed fiercely, while fire swirled in his eyes.

All around them the earth suddenly jolted, knocking nearly everyone off their feet, causing the men on the jetty to fall onto the rocks. The men on the jetty behind them let out a cries of alarm as the water rushed, _backwards_ , past them. They scrambled to regain their footing, looking about in confusion, the water all around them -and for some ways off- retreating back towards the ocean, rushing away, exposing sand, rock, and seaweed while it hurried past them. 

And in almost the same span of time, a wall of water further out began forming, rising in height and moving landward at frightening speed. Merlin stood his ground, watching as the wall of water continued to rise, preparing yet another spell, feeling the familiar connection and power of his magic build in him while he gauged his timing. This had to be perfect.

Mirin suddenly twisted in his arm, her one hand still clutching the seal skin. Merlin felt her strange, wild magic tugging strongly at the periphery of his own senses when her other hand reach up to clutch his shirt and the belt still strapped around his chest. He glanced down, frowning in confusion.

“Behyhte mec,” she said clearly, her eyes meeting his, then her ancient magic enveloped them both. Images appeared suddenly in his mind, urging him to trust her. Stunned by her action, Merlin felt himself being jerked forwards, towards the rising wall of seawater. Before he could even think to stop what was happening, a brilliant flash of light blinded him and he was engulfed in the tidal wave.

* 

On the hillside above them, Arthur had just dispatched the mounted patrol man he had been fighting when the earth shook, causing his own mount to dance in fear. The horses' eyes rolled while it turned, trying to make its way uphill. Still firmly in control under Arthur's hand, it could only crab its way sideways up the road while the other horses around them squealed in fear and began stampeding up the hillsides. 

Alarmed, Arthur looked out towards the jetty, where he could see the other men trying to make their way out to where Merlin had reached the end of the rocks. He watched in shock as the water raced unnaturally backwards off the small beach like a sudden and freakishly low tide, then realized --to his horror-- that the water further out in the bay was rising. 

“Merlin!” He shouted uselessly, his eyes fastened on the form of his servant, supporting Mirin with his arm. “ _MERLIN!_ ” He shrieked, seeing the wave rise even higher. He barely saw Mirin turning in Merlin's grip and reaching up to grab his shirt. To Arthur's horror she jerked backwards, pulling Merlin with her towards the rising wall of water behind them. An abrupt burst of light flared out from around the pair, as both vanished into the surge.

“ _NO!_ ” Arthur's scream was futile, the wind and the sudden roar of the tidal surge ripping sounds away from him. He didn't even hear the thundering of the horses as they galloped past him up the safety of the hill while the wall of water swept over the helpless men on the jetty, engulfing it and burying the little plain of grass in roiling, angry, water.

Never in his life had Arthur ever witnessed what he was seeing now. And he never wanted to see anything like it ever again. Like a living thing, the water swept inwards, taking rock, tree and any other detritus with it, sweeping up the creek. Everything in its path turned into a boiling, muddy, fury. Enormous trees came crashing down, adding to the din already overwhelming the senses. Anything that could float formed a battering ram of horrific proportions while the surge mercilessly beat down whatever was in its path. Even huge sections of land were ripped out by that brutal wave.

As fast as it surged inwards, it reversed course and began rushing backwards again, carrying away the debris on its surface and leaving behind it a forever altered landscape.

Where there had once been a grassy sward there was now a flattened, muddy, brown plain. Splintered trees and branches where strewn like stubble and where the jetty once had been, the rocks had been hurled about like so many pebbles by a giant, widening the beach, leaving the spot utterly unrecognizable. The road had been obliterated.

It was over as quickly as it began. The surge vanished back into the sea, only the torn up trees and whatever else could float, bobbed in the surf while the angered sea returned to normality. The waves once again slapped at the shore. Logs, branches, whole shrubs, littered the newly expanded beach. 

The creek, unrecognizable now, produced a fan of water, forging new channels through the mud and sand. It's burbling noise contrasting with the scenes of destruction. It made its way back to the ocean, creating rivulets where it met the calming waves.

Arthur, ghost pale, open-mouthed in shock, could only stare in horror. He slid off his horse, clutching reins and mane, keeping himself upright, unable to take his eyes off the destruction laid out before him. There was nobody around. He was utterly alone. 

“Merlin?” he asked out loud, appalled at the plaintiveness in his voice, his eyes searching the terrain. Realization began rising that nobody could have survived what he had just witnessed. He wasn't even aware he was moving, until he felt the horse slide in the mud as he angled his way to a place near the widened beach where he could reach the sand. The rain still fell in sheets, softer now, while the wind let up. The sky was lightening perceptibly, the clouds no longer dark and boiling.

Arthur set foot on the sand, at first sinking, then stopping when the wet sand under it retained it compactness. Dropping the horse's reins, the animal dutifully halted, lowering its head, looking wet and dejected while Arthur cautiously moved out onto the new beach.

He had no idea how long he wandered across that stretch of sand. No idea really, what he was searching for, there was nobody, nothing. Even the gulls were gone. Boulders from the jetty were strewn about helter-skelter and he made his way around them slowly, utterly lost in the renovated landscape. When movement did finally catch his eye he was shocked to see Merlin's horse trapped on the other side of the road, attempting to make its way down onto the sand. 

Arthur broke out into a run, reaching the animal and snatching up its dropped reins. The horse, still wild-eyed, jerked its head up and Arthur began murmuring to it in low tones, keeping it calm while he searched for a safe place for it to reach the beach. He led the horse slowly back, mindful of his footing, gazing around at the devastation.

It was then that the seagulls, silently began gliding back into the area. Without a sound, they appeared, effortlessly surfing the air currents, wheeling and turning. Only the sound of their flapping wings could be heard. Not one cry was uttered, not even the typical bickering and arguing so indefatigably a part of the species. Arthur frowned, stopping in his tracks, reaching up to rest his hand on the nose of the horse. He watched the gulls, as more of them arrived, some beginning to settle on the boulders and broken up trees, others circling above him.

An eerie calm had descended over the area, Arthur watched the gulls suspiciously then he looked out over the water. Debris from the surge was floating farther and farther away, almost getting lost in the breakers further out to sea. The only sounds to be heard were the waves lapping gently ashore, and the flapping of the gulls as they flew around the little bay.

He began leading Merlin's horse over to the side his own mount was on, when his eyes caught another movement. His head came up and he searched the water sharply. Something had moved and at first he thought it was the bobbing of a broken tree or a branch. He frowned. 

Out in the water a head had appeared. Just a dark blob out amongst the rollers. At first Arthur didn't think it was real under it abruptly sank down and vanished. Seconds later, at another spot, another head appeared, stayed afloat a moment, then vanished. A third, much closer now, rose to take its place. Arthur could make out a muzzle, stiff with whiskers and huge, sad dark eyes.

Seals.

The third creature slipped soundlessly back underwater to be replaced in a new spot by a fourth. It was then Arthur felt a finger of ice begin running up his spine. Another head had appeared, followed by another until easily half a dozen seals, heads bobbing in the surf, had revealed themselves. They were all looking his way. He froze in place, staring at them. The eerie silence seemed like an oppressing cloak all about him.

“Hullo?” he called out, taking a step forward.

One of the seals tossed its head back, then all six abruptly sank underwater with barely a plip of sound.

Baffled at their sudden disappearance, Arthur cast his gaze around. “Mirin?” he shouted. Nothing.

Arthur began backing up, looking at the seagulls, who were now settling down on anything available. They twisted or tilted their heads, looking at him and still not making one sound. He led Merlin's horse to his side of the road, letting it join the other before turning back towards the beach.

A lone seal's head had appeared again, watching him. It stared some minutes with its fathomless dark eyes, water dripping off its whiskers, then it slowly blinked, turning its head away while it slipped under the surface of the water. Arthur made his way closer to the waves, noticing they never appeared when he moved, he finally stopped at the waters edge and didn't move.

One by one the heads of the seals appeared out in the surf, six of them, then nine, then fourteen, then, easily, two dozen. They all faced him. Arthur's attention was riveted on them, that icy finger creeping up his back.

“What is it?” he called out, “What do you want?”

With a head toss from one of the seals, all of them slipped back under the surface again. Arthur, utterly confused, tossed a hand up in despair, slapping his thigh as he looked away to the south. He waited again, searching the water for the seals. But nothing appeared. 

In a quandary he stood frozen in place when from his left a group of the silent gulls suddenly erupted upwards with a flurry of wings and a cacophony of noise. Arthur's head snapped around.

For a brief moment a lone seal could be heard barking through the din created by the gulls before the oppressing silence crashed down again. Arthur turned, making his way towards where he thought the seal had called from. He had to pick his way carefully around the wet sand and the huge strewn boulders. His eyes caught sight of something half buried in the sand and he broke into a slow run, dropping to his knees besides the object.

The linen package that Mirin had tenaciously clung to had some how survived the surge. Or mostly. He pulled at the wrapping, empty now and coated with wet sand. Arthur stood up, glancing around. Confusion wreaking havoc of his senses.

One more time he heard the barking, closer now and he stumbled towards a cluster of tossed boulders.

It was then that he heard someone coughing.


	18. Chapter 18

**18.**

Barely able in time to take a deep breath, Merlin felt something horrifically strong pull him into that enormous surge of water, but instead of being swept away with the surge, he was pulled hard deeper into the depths. Bubbles escaped him while his hearing began abruptly to roar and he tried twisting towards what he thought, or rather hoped, was the surface, but that enormously powerful pull sucked him down further into the deep.

Of Mirin, there was nothing to be seen.

Merlin's senses were utterly scrambled and he couldn't see anything at first, nor could he make heads or tails of his situation. Water boiled and bubbled like a mad cauldron all around him and he was still reeling with the shock of it all. Not to mention a suddenly overwhelming fear of drowning.

He felt his chest tightening, the roaring in his ears getting louder and he grimly clamped his mouth shut, trying, fruitlessly, to keep any air bubbles from escaping him. Again he turned for the surface, utterly unaware of what was up or down and fought ferociously with a rising tide of panic which threatened to wrest any control he had away from him.

A macabre part of him grimly chuckled at the thought that, for a sorcerer, he was putting the lie to the water test by sinking and actually drowning.

So many things began clamouring for his attention as he felt his strength seep away. Where was Arthur? Who would tell his mother and what would become of her? What would happen to Gaius? This was not supposed to be the way his destiny ended! Had Kilgharrah lied to him all this time? He wanted to draw breath, to call the great dragon to him, but he was definitely in a situation where calling out for anything, or even attempting to use his magic was utterly out of the question.

In his confusion his mouth opened, and he felt himself gulp seawater. He clenched his jaw shut. Trying to open his eyes, he struggled to see, and he became vaguely aware of dark forms rushing past him, but the turbulence of the water, mixed with sand and seaweed obscured his vision even more.

The pressure on his head and chest increased, the pain rising, and he could feel his limbs getting heavier and heavier the more he tried to get to the surface. With the roaring in his ears came a ringing as well. He could feel a rising darkness within him, threatening to burying him and as he struggled against it, the water around him began to clear.

Then he saw it.

In the gloom of the water, when distances between him and other 'things' became more distinct, Merlin was aware of a presence. The force that had been pulling him down no longer had him in its grip, but he floated helplessly, his arms turning to jelly while he gazed upwards at what he though was the surface.

Something in the gloom swept by him and he convulsively cringed away from it before sensing something large just ahead of him. He was rapidly losing his strength and it was becoming clearer and clearer that he was going to die. The pressure on his chest and head had turned into constricting bands, the pain increasing, while his vision contracted, forcing his attention to what was only in front of him. 

The water suddenly cleared.

The sandy sea floor spread out and disappeared into the darkness at its outer edges. Small mounds of kelp, other weeds and sea pens, unfurling their long plumes, swayed gently to and fro in the movement of the surf. Before him, he could see a pair of seals, far back, effortlessly, gracefully, swimming in and out of the gloom. They were intensely curious, but dared come no closer. His body rocked with the water, and small bits of seaweed and other watery detritus floated all around him. A seal appeared to his left, swimming past him, casting a dark eyed look back at him as it passed him by.

In the gloom ahead the figure was emerging.

Merlin could only watch when an enormous seal, floating vertically, unmoving, appeared before him. It never moved a flipper. It simply floated, much like he was, before him and watching him with its huge, dark, unearthly eyes.

Another seal glided up, taking up a vertical position to the left of the larger seal, turning to face him. Another appeared taking up place to the right, then others appeared as a semi-circle of seals formed before him. Each one stared unblinkingly at him, forming an eerie underwater court, floating in position while other seals swam past, appearing and disappearing, in and out of the gloom.

With his vision decreasing, the constriction tightening and the pain rising, Merlin got the distinct sense he was being judged. Involuntarily his mouth opened again, what remaining air he had bubbled out and water rushed in to take its place. Merlin could only stare helplessly at the group of seals before him. 

The darkness threatened to bury him, and Merlin almost welcomed it, seeking an end to what was happening to him. Then he felt it again, that strange, wild, ancient magic swirling around him. In his remaining glimpse of the semi circle of creatures before him, he got the distinct sense that they knew exactly who he was. Overwhelmed by that sense, he struggled with the last of his remaining consciousness, trying to understand when he felt something knock him upwards, bumping him hard towards the surface before he felt an odd pulling at the belt around his chest. He was propelled upwards. A form swept past him, another rose up, bumping him ahead of itself.

Breaking the waters, he gasped in air, feeling like his chest was on fire and he was hit again by something large, and moving fast, under him. He flopped over, trying to orientate himself. He gulped in the air -sweet, moist, sea air- panting in panic as he tried turning, trying to see where he was.

To his shock he was extremely close to shore. Again, he was hit from behind, and felt his legs scrap hard into what could only be a barnacle covered rock. Merlin turned finally, trying to swim for the shore. He knew he wouldn't be able to make it, his limbs still felt like lead. He could barely focus his vision and his breathing was in desperate gasps while he continued gulping in great amounts of air. He thrashed at the water, making no headway whatsoever. Again, something large, warm, and moving fast propelled him forward from behind.

Even in the confusion of his senses, Merlin could swear he was being herded forward by several different seals.

At the last he felt sand under him and he tried crawling out, feeling one last great push from behind. He barely could get on his hands and knees, before feeling a wave of nausea hit him and he promptly vomited.

He began coughing --more akin to gagging-- trying to get the seawater out of his system while he clawed his way forward up the wet sand. He had no idea where he was at, nothing looked familiar. All he wanted was to get out of the water, and breath. He tried levering himself up, his wet, sandy clothes suddenly adding their weight, trying to pull him downwards when he felt the wet sand shake under him. Something was behind him. 

Merlin cast a glance back, and was horrified to see the huge seal from the strange court suddenly rushing through the waves at him. The creature was terrifically large, his huge dark eyes fixed only on Merlin. Merlin began crabbing desperately backwards as the seal lunged and hurled itself forward up the wet sand. Convinced he was about to be crushed to death by the creature, Merlin tried to turn, trying to get his refusing arms and legs to cooperate with him to save his life. 

And then someone was grabbed him from behind, shouting something, before yanking him backwards, pulling him up onto the beach. Merlin clawed at the person's arms, pedaling his feet in an effort to get out of the water from the lunging beast still chasing him out of it.

The beast came to a stop, rearing upwards to a fearsome height, its lips lifting, snout pointed skyward, whiskers bristling, showing dark, razor sharp, teeth. Merlin felt himself dragged backwards, sagging into the grip of the person behind him, still unable to take his eyes off the huge creature before him, who was shifting from one flipper to the other.

It's stance was unmistakable. Get out and never come back.

Merlin sagged, still feeling his chest heave for air and another wave of nausea swept over him, he turned, away from whomever had dragged him out of the water, and promptly emptied his stomach out again. He felt utterly drained, desperately wanting nothing more than to collapse when it began to dawn on him that the person behind him was calling him by name.

He frowned in incomprehension for a moment as he felt himself being pulled up further away from the huge seal.

“Arthur?” he managed to gasp when the person behind him abruptly dropped to his knees, supporting Merlin's shoulders and upper body.

“What the hell is that thing!?” Arthur was demanding. 

Merlin became aware that a veritable whirlwind of squawking, screaming seagulls had swooped all around them.

“Selkie!” Merlin gasped over the din, still feeling his chest heaving for air. “Big, big selkie!”

“Mirin?!” Arthur exploded in disbelief, batting away a seagull coming too close to his head.

“No!” Merlin managed to gasp. “Daddy!”

“You're not making any sense!” Arthur managed to reply over the noise of the gulls.

Together the two watched as the Selkie began backing away from them, its lip still lifted in a curl of disdain and not once taking its eyes off of them while it backed into the surf.

“Can you get up?” Arthur was urging, trying to lift Merlin from the sand.

Merlin shook his head, grasping at where Arthur's arms had gripped him around his still heaving chest. “Let me.. catch my... breath!” he pleaded.

“Not much time, Merlin. There could be patrols around any second! The noise from that wave must have been heard for miles!”

Merlin nodded, clutching at Arthur's arms when the prince tried to pull him to his feet. His legs felt like rubber, as he tried to stand. Arthur was trying to hold him upright. Abruptly the wheeling, crying seagulls broke away, dispersing. 

“Look!” Merlin managed to gasp.

Out on the sea, heads began popping up in the surf. Seal after seal, all staring their way, appeared and then disappeared. Both men stood transfixed while the rain, now back to normal showers, drifted over man and creature alike.

From far out over the water, a much smaller lone seal barked. Both men quickly spotted it. The creature tossed its head back, barking once more, as --one by one-- the other seals began to disappear, their heads slipping away silently in the heaving surf. After a matter of seconds, that one lone seal was all that remained.

Merlin knew.

“Mirin...” he whispered. 

The lone seal gazed at them, the huge dark eyes unblinking. It remained that way while the last of the seagulls vanished and the only sound that remained was the lapping of waves, the soft patter of the rain, the clink and tinkle of pebbles and shells, and the sussuration of the water as it drained off the beach.

“Mirin..?” he whispered again.

The seal tossed back its head. Then, with a joyous flip of its body, the little creature vanished under the surface of the water.

Merlin's legs gave out, and he fought another wave of nausea while the threatening wave of darkness continued trying to sweep him away.

“Don't you dare faint on me!” Arthur's voice growled in his ear. “It was bad enough traveling with a girl here, I'll not drag another girl all the way back to Camelot!”

For some inexplicable reason, Merlin found that funny and he began to chuckle. Arthur growled at him while Merlin tried to gain his feet. Arthur pulled his arm over his own shoulders, turning their way landward, heading for where their horses stood.

“Where are we?” Merlin asked in confusion, staggering like a drunk, and beginning to shiver. He was looking around in confusion.

“At the bottom of the coast road...” Arthur replied jarring suddenly when Merlin came to a stop, staring around him at the utter and complete destruction. “We've never left it.” He added seeing the shock and horror on Merlin's face.

“That selkie, Mirin, packed a whole hell of a lot more of a punch than just a shock wave,” Arthur was saying with conviction. “I saw that tidal wave form and there is no way you can ever convince me that it wasn't created using magic. It's wiped out everything for a league at least inland, and whatever patrol men were following us are long dead by now. That jetty is gone, all the rocks have been tossed all over the place like marbles.”

Merlin turned his head towards Arthur, his jaw slack with shock. “Yeah. Right. Mirin. Magic,” he stammered. 

“How the hell you've managed to survive it is beyond me! I saw her pull you into that wave!” Arthur said, turning them towards the waiting horses.

“I think that might be the only reason why,” Merlin managed to gasp, his teeth beginning to chatter. “I didn't get swept into the wave. Something pulled me down under it.” He glanced down at his belt, still looped over his shoulder and across his chest. He frowned, fingering it.

“See?” he lifted it up. “Teeth marks.”

“You're making absolutely no bloody sense!” Arthur snapped.

“And after getting her all the way back home, I get evicted!” Indignation tinged Merlin's voice.

“You damn near drowned, Merlin! And that, that thing...”

“Selkie,” Merlin interjected.

“Selkie. Seal. _Whatever!_ That thing could have crushed us both to death! What did you do to make it so mad?”

“What did I do?!” Merlin protested as Arthur staggered with him across the sand to where they could get to the horses. “What are you blaming me for?! I didn’t do anything!”

“Knowing you, you _had_ to have done something!”

“Oh sure, return one of their own to them, nearly drown in a freak wave, almost get run over by an angry sea creature and it's all my fault?”

”You're the one who wanted to bring her all the way back here!”

“And that's my fault as well?”

“Merlin quit arguing with me and get on the damn horse!”

Arthur ended up have to boost Merlin into the saddle. He was utterly drained, in mind, in body and in spirit and a weary ache was settling into his bones. As he hunched over the saddle, barely able to lift his head much less gather the reins together, he cast a glance around at the utter devastation he had knowingly caused, then he took another look out to sea.

That inner sense his magic had with everything around him, instantly detected, faint and far away, the selkie's wild, ancient, magic and he knew that a lone little seal's head poking out of the water far out in the bay was Mirin.

**Epilogue**

The journey back was anything but pleasant for Merlin. By the time they made it back to Camelot, Merlin was coughing, his entire body ached and he could feel a horrible tightening in his chest. Arthur had to help him down off his horse and up to his room in Gaius' chambers. The physician, having been forewarned, was well prepared for him. Leaving Merlin in his room for a moment, Gaius saw Arthur to the door.

“I'll get that delivery sent up right away,” Arthur was saying, “Just let him know to take it easy. At least until you say he can return to light work.”

“You did say he nearly drowned?”

“Oh yes...” Arthur tried not to think of that nightmarish wave. “How he managed not to get swept up in that thing, and beaten to death by the debris alone, is beyond thinking. It all had to have been that selkie's magic. He was babbling something about it pulling him under the wave and down to the sea floor. By rights he should be dead, he was the first one to get swept up in it.”

“Perhaps Mirin was protecting him somehow?”

“I thought of that too. All the same, the near drowning and the haste to get out of Odin's land didn't lend itself well to getting him back on his feet from it. He figured it was pneumonia coming on and did what he could to prevent it. The only reason he's walking right now is because of the medicines he made on the trip back.”

Gaius couldn't help the smile on his face as Arthur came to the door, opening it. “Well, I can take it from here, sire. Check back tomorrow if you like. Hopefully thing's will be improved by then.”

Arthur nodded. “Now to go face Father, I'm sure he's heard something of where I've been at by now,” he grumbled and turned to leave. “Now I just have to figure out what not to tell him about it.”

“You've always been good at coming up with something,” Gaius replied with a gentle smirk. Arthur snorted softly in amusement and left.

Up in his room, Merlin had managed to get out of his shirt, and stood in his leggings and stockings a moment before his little fireplace, grateful for the warmth coming from it. He let the heat seep into his bones before he wearily sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning over to reach for the blanket while fighting off a coughing fit.

Gaius gave a warning rap on the door before entering. “Don't get too comfortable just yet,” Gaius warned, moving to the table, searching the bottles and pots he had already set up.

Merlin groaned out loud, wanting to lie down, but Gaius prevented him, taking the blankets and wrapping them around Merlin's shoulders. “Too late. All this time on horseback? This bed feel like heaven,” Merlin mumbled, his eyes closed in relief, leaning precariously towards his pillow. He started coughing in earnest.

Gaius waited it out, looking down at him, holding some of his medicines and raised an eyebrow. He handed one of the bottles to him. “Take the whole thing, there's water in the flask to help wash it down.”

Merlin nodded acquiescence, tossed the first bottle back, tried not to choke, and reached for the flask. The next two bottles went down the same way and it was a truly worn out, exhausted Merlin who finally lay back, sighing in relief, while Gaius made him comfortable. 

He felt the bed shift when Gaius sat next to him, reaching for his wrist, checking his pulse. He cracked an eye open, looking at the old physician.

“You've some tale to tell, don't you?” Gaius asked quietly, feeling Merlin's forehead for fever.

Merlin smiled slightly and nodded. “It was worth it though, in the end.” 

Gaius sat back, concern on his features as he noted the state his ward was in.“Forgive an old man's curiosity Merlin, I know you want sleep but tell me some of it?”

Merlin felt a wry smile curl one corner of his mouth. “She's back with her people. It worked.” He paused, becoming thoughtful a moment.“When I called forth that surge, Mirin's feet were in the seawater, she was trying to get the wrap off her skin. The second her fingers touched it, she grabbed me and we both went under the wave together, because of her magic. I couldn't react. That's when they all began to appear, one after another, the selkies, other seals, including what had to be the leader, or her father, I don't know, but it was one gigantic creature.” Merlin stifled a round of coughs and Gaius patiently waited it out. 

“All I know for certain is that I was drowning, I had swallowed so much seawater. I couldn't focus to use my own magic to get me out. I was panicking, Gaius. And the selkies, they just hung there, suspended in the water, looking at me, judging me. They barely moved. I was about to lose consciousness when I got the very distinct impression that they know who I am.” Merlin cast a meaningful glance at Gaius before continuing.

“Then one of the seals hit me from underneath, shoving me towards the surface. Another grabbed my belt, hauling me up, then they took turns herding me towards shore, like I was a foot ball or something. Until that king selkie literally chased me out of the water. Arthur was right, if we had moved a muscle to go near the water, that creature would have crushed us to death.”

Merlin heaved a sigh, “After that it was a mad race trying to dodge Odin's patrols getting out of his realm. I didn't get much of a chance to recuperate. I dried out from that near drowning on horseback, never felt so chafed in my life. We were racing to keep one step ahead of them. By the time we reached our borders I knew I was coming down with something.” He smirked, “Kind of ironic it would be pneumonia.”

“Near drowning, the stress, no chance to properly warm up and recuperate for what, the two or three days it took to get out of Odin's kingdom? It would be surprising if you didn't get it. Good thing you can make up some of the treatments for it on the road. Still, by the sound of that cough, and that fever, you have some infection going on in there. I can imagine the ingestion of seawater contributed to that,” Gaius stated flatly. 

“You were right all along, Gaius,” Merlin said. “All she wanted was to get home. I saw her one last time before we fled, out there on the surf. I could sense her joy all the way out there. I think they spared my life, because I returned her to them.”

Gaius softly smiled, nodding his head in acquiescence. “And if you are right, because they knew who you are, as well. It's the magic, it ties you all together.” Gaius pondered for a moment then asked,”How has Arthur handled all of this?”

“Peeved, more than anything, with me, of course, always me,” Merlin grumbled, then he offered the old man a lopsided smile, “But he's going to see what he can do about protecting selkies along Camelot's coasts. He doesn't want anyone messing with whatever power they might have, and the idea of one being indentured to a man definitely met his ire.”

Gaius nodded, a soft smile touching his lips, taking in the information. 

Merlin fell silent a moment, contemplating his next question, “Gaius, she gave you something, showed you something, I felt her use her magic on you. The night we left. What did she show you?” Merlin asked.

Gaius hesitated, a wistful fleeting look appeared briefly in his eyes, and he gently patted Merlin's shoulder. “And if I recall, I said it was all right. She imparted a gift to me, a private one. Nothing bad about it Merlin, it was a gift, really.”

“You're not going to tell me what it was, are you?”

Gaius gave him a smile and nodded.

Merlin sighed in understanding then asked, “How are you doing? I mean, after that blast in the catacombs and dealing with Uther and..?”

“Fine, Merlin. I'm fine. Still a bit bruised and the arthritis is acting up from the cold, but you are the one we need to be concerned about, not me.” He patted Merlin's arm, his attention caught by the sound of something being delivered downstairs and a voice calling out for him, “Ah,” he said and with a groan he stiffly stood up from Merlin's bed. “That will be my delivery. Now I have some work cut out to do. Literally.”

Merlin frowned, seeing a hint of mischief in the quirk of Gaius' smile and the raised brow. “What would that be?”

“You'll find out in short order,” Gaius said, turning to go. “That's an infection trying to settle into your chest and lungs, and I'll be damned if I am going to sit up night after night trying to see it break up. I'm getting a jump start on it.”

A pause settled on the room as Merlin stared at him with trepidation. “Oh no...” Merlin groaned, reaching up to run a hand into his dark hair, realization settling in. He looked at Gaius in horror.

“Oh yes, that was a special delivery from the kitchens.” Gaius smiled serenely and turned to go. 

“Not..?” Merlin started to ask.

Like a wise old sage, Gaius nodded his head slowly, his smile tinged with smug triumph.

“Onions, Merlin, onions.”


End file.
